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Brooks and 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 



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Shelf .Si*. 
L&3I 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 




Up in a wild, where no one comes to look, 
There lives and sings a little lonely brook; 
Liveth and singeth in the dreary pines, 
Yet creepeth on to where the daylight shines." — 



first Steps in (Seoorapb^ 



OO^OO 



BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS 



BY jjy 

ALEXANDER E. FRYE, LL.B. 

^lthor of "The Child and Nature," "Raised Maps or 
the Continents." etc. 




Jf f ry "Come forth into the light of things 
( y ' Let Nature be your teacher" 



— Wordsworth 



>V 

PUBLISHED BY THE 

BAY STATE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

Hyde Park, Mass. 

1891 






"Boys, flying kifes, haul in their white-winged birds; 
You can't do tftat way when you're flying words." 

— Will Carleton. 



Copyright, 1891, 
By ALEXANDER E, FRYE. 



All Rights Reserved. 



Alfred Mudge & Son, Printers, Boston. 



PKEFACE. 



The purpose of this book is twofold : 

I. To INSPIRE CHILDREN WITH LOVE OF NATURE. 

II. TO SUGGEST TO TEACHERS THE SUBJECT-MATTER OF 
PRIMARY GEOGRAPHY, WHICH, IN THE FORM OF OUT-DOOR 
NATURE STUDIES, SHOULD PRECEDE THE USE OF A TEXT- 
BOOK. 

The study of mere forms of land and water, which usually 
completes the elementary course, is in reality only a very 
insignificant part of what should constitute the work. The 
aim should be to teach, by leading children to discover, the 
relations of these forms to the forces or working agencies, 
such as running water and currents of air, as they affect the 
development and distribution of plant and animal life. 

The reason for selecting Brooks axd Brook Basins as 
a title is fully stated on the page next following. 

If this book possesses any merit, it is that of presenting 
the earth as a living, working, producing organism, in a 
form adapted to the minds of children. 

Alex. E. Frye. 

Hyde Park, Mass., Jan. 1, 1891. 



TO TEACHERS. 



Tlwughts from 
"THE CHILD AND NATURE." 

I. Perception. 

Every brook basin is a miniature world. 

The forms of land and water ; the forces at work wearing 
and building ; the conditions that regulate the distribution 
of life, — all are there, repeated in endless variety. 

The hillside leads to the greatest slopes of earth; the 
running water illustrates the principles of drainage of the 
largest rivers ; the little delta shows how vast alluvial 
plains are formed ; each blade of grass and tiny earthworm 
obey the same forces that cover the earth with flora and 
fauna. 

But only after pupils have studied the relations of forms, 
forces and conditions in nature, can they imagine them on 
the grander scale on which our beautiful planet is con- 
structed ; for, in the development of mind, perception must 
precede imagination. 

Teachers are earnestly advised to take their pupils, when 
practicable, out by a brookside, to read and discuss the 
topics in this book, where nature can speak for itself, and 
awaken new thoughts. 

The brook basin is the unit-form of continental drainage. 



Vi TO TEACHERS. 

II. Imagination. 

Particular attention is called to the importance of culti- 
vating the power to imagine the great natural features of 
the earth, by describing them to children as soon as their 
types have been studied in the school district. 

By such teaching, the grove becomes a great selva, the 
meadow broadens to a vast prairie, the little ravine rises to 
a canon of the Colorado ; in short, through the geographical 
forms about home, pupils should be led to study types of 
families of great natural features, till the whole world lies 
mirrored in the district. 

Xot knowledge of particular foreign forms, but power to 
imagine, should be the aim. This is one of the most im- 
portant steps in the teaching of primary geography. At 
the close of some chapters will be found stories illustrating 
this work. 

Children revel in analogies, because they lead to the 
beautiful region of fancy, where all childhood must wander 
till the discovery of natural cause and effect reveals true 
relations governed by physical laws, and admits to the 
higher realm of imagination. Fancy is an iridescent 
bridge between memory and imagination, and unfortunate 
the child who is not permitted to cross at his leisure, and 
grow strong in imaging-power while crossing. 

It is because of the great importance of fancy, or phan- 
tasy, in the development of the imagination, that so many 
analogies, in simple metaphor and simile, have been sug- 
gested in these pages. 

III. Sensibility. 

Another element is worthy of special notice ; viz. the use 
of choice quotations as a means of leading children to a 
more reflective and refining study of nature. 



TO TEACHERS. VH 

Forms of land and water, whose beauty and lessons lie 
deeply hidden, are oft unveiled at the touch of the poet 
mind. Their influence sinks deepest when we are drawn 
nearest to nature in study ; and the forms that first inspired 
the poet's ideal become the language by which we inter- 
pret it. 

Science is an ocean of thought, with every wave a poem. 

Eeach out to childhood, and sow in the forming charac- 
ters the purest thought-seeds of the noblest minds. To see 
truth is to love it, and every child naturally inclines to that 
which is pure and true. 

Store the memories with such beautiful poems as lie 
scattered over these pages like gems in a rough river-bed, 
and in years to come they will adorn lives made nobler by 
their presence. 

The philosophy of phenomena, difficult to grasp in the 
lower grades of school work, has been suggested in various 
figures of speech. For every fledgling idea in the text, 
there are a dozen pecking at the word-shells. Do not try 
to break the coverings from without, but wait for them *to 
develop from within. 

Let the children taste the joy that springs from the dis- 
covery of truth. Effort alone is the soil of growth. 



CONTEXTS. 



CHAPTER 

I. The Raindrops set out on their Journey 



II. At Work in the Dark Soil . 

III. The Raindrops on the Water-parting 

IV. In the Brook-Bed 

V. Brook Basins and Systems . . 

VI. How Soil is made and carried 

VII. Forms of Water 

VIII. The Atmosphere in Motion . 

IX. An Evening under the Stars 

X. Days, Xights and Seasons 

XI. Plant Life in the Valley . 

XII. Animals that lite by the Brookside 

XIII. Home to Old Ocean 



PAGE 
1 

10 
18 
27 
36 
44 
54 
61 
71 
82 
95 
104 
114 



IX 



BEOOKS AND BKOOK BASINS. 



BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 



■OO^OO- 



CHAPTER I. 

THE RAINDROPS SET OUT OX THEIR JOURNEY. 

" tell me, pretty' brooklet ! 

Whence do thy waters flow ? 
And whither art thou roaming, 
So smoothly and so slow ? 

" My birthplace was the mountain, 

My nurse the April showers ; 
My cradle was a fountain 

O'er-curtained by wild-flowers." 

-Axon. 

Have you heard the babbling brooklet tell the 
story of its travels ? 

There it comes ! tripping down the hillside. 
like a band of fairies dressed in golden sunbeams. 

Hear it tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, as it ripples o'er 
the pebbles. See the sunlight play on its silvery 
sheets, and dance in the flying spray. 

Watch the shining bubbles spring up in each 
tiny water-break to catch the rainbow colors, — 

1 



2 bbooks axd bbook basins. 

then burst and fling their beauty playfully into 
the air. 

Flakes of foam, like baby swans, chase around 
each little bend, and whirl in merry eddies. 

Like a happy child at play, the brooklet hides 
its dimpled cheek behind the green bank, and then 
comes skipping lightly forth again. Now it glides 
into the meadow, where graceful willows bend 
above it, and snow-white clouds beneath its sur- 
face seem to float in fairyland. 

On its banks, the wild-flowers stoop their pretty 
heads, and nod and sway. They love to listen to 
its noisy prattle. Even the timid rabbit, with one 
soft white foot uplifted, stops and pricks up its 
long ears, to hear the brooklet tell the story of its 
travels. 

Hark ! it is just beginning : 

" Far away in the sunset gardens, where bright 
flowers cluster at eventide, there dwells a beautiful 
maiden, named Aurora, the goddess of Dawn. 

•• Just before the break of day, she rises from 
her downy couch and sets the morning star in her 
forehead, above a cloudy crown. Over her ruddy 
shoulders she spreads a rich mantle tinged with 
purple, and soars away on graceful wings that 
bear the hues and tints of morning. 

" One touch, in passing, puts out the starry lights. 

Ci Her gently swaying pinions fan away the cold, 
gray mists, as with rosy fingers she paints the 






"Now it glides into the meadow," 



THE RAIN D BOPS ON THEIR JOURNEY. 3 

sleeping hilltops, tinting them with dawning light. 
The sweet-voiced birds awake, and grateful flowers 
lift up their dewy heads to greet her as she passes. 

" Open-wide she swings the gates of morning, and 
the flaming chariot of the sun rolls in to run its 
course across the arching sky. Then swift Aurora 
westward wings her way to welcome home the 
Prince of Liriit when his daily task is ended. 

"One morning, long ago, a band of little rain- 
drops, far away in the deep sea, were watching 
the rosy Dawn greet the coming Day. 

" The noble Prince was just rising from his bed 
of roses. A thousand golden spear-points were 
thrusting aside the dark curtain of night. A 
thousand silver arrows were shooting across the 
sky. Old Ocean lay fast asleep. 

" Soon a dazzling light poured out over the 
water, tipping each tiny ripple with gold. The 
merry waves awoke, and danced and sang : 

" c Children are we 
Of the restless sea, 
Swelling in anger, or speaking in glee ; 
We follow and race, 
In shifting chase, 
Over the boundless ocean space ! 
Who hath beheld when the race begun ? 
Who shall behold it run ? ' 

— Batard Taylor. 

" ' Now for a race ! ' shouted the passing sun- 
beams to our raindrop band. 



4 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

" Away we went ! Up, up, on our light vapor- 
wings. Up, up, over the tall masts of the ship. 
Up, up, into the bright blue sky. 

" Far below, we could see the old white sea-gulls, 
chasing their own shadows among the clear blue 
waves. 

" The air became cooler, so we put on our pretty 
white cloud-jackets. What a host we were ! Above, 
below, on every side, the air was filled with water- 
dust. It made a cloud that cast a long, wide 
shadow over the sea. 

" Hour after hour we floated, till the Prince of 
Light sank to rest on a pillow of fleecy clouds. 
Over him the Twilight wove a beautiful coverlet 
with rainbow threads. Then her rosy fingers 
gently swung the gates of evening, and left us 
alone in the darkness. 

" Soon a gentle breeze came tripping over the 
sea. Pretty ripples sprang up to greet it. Then 
a timid little star peeped forth to see if day had 
gone. Another and another followed, till their 
bright eyes were blinking all over the sky. 



« 6 



The twilight hours, like birds, flew by 

As lightly and as free ; 
Ten thousand stars were in the sky, 

Ten thousand in the sea ; 
For every wave with dimpled cheek, 

That leaped into the air, 
Had caught a star in its embrace, 

And held it trembling there.' 

— Amelia B. Welby. 



THE RAINDROPS ON THEIR JOURNEY. 5 

" 0, how beautiful was the night ! 

" Low in the west, the crescent moon rocked in 
the deep grottos of the silver-lined clouds. Under 
its mellow light, the drowsy waves put on their 
sparkling night-caps, and went sailing off to bed. 

" Above us, the Milky Way, pale rainbow of 
night, spanned the dark-blue sky, with its millions 
of starry drops, like a bridge of silver foam among 
its clusters of golden islands. 

" There, too, o'erspread the countless stars, as if 
the sun, like a flaming rocket, had burst and show- 
ered its flickering sparks over the sleeping earth. 

" Now and then, bright trailing meteors flew far 
overhead, like starry birds-of-passage, — flashed 
into sight for an instant, and then were gone, — 
whither ? 

" Here and there, weird shadows seemed to flit 
like dark-winged birds across the sea, to remind us 
that night was hovering near. 

" What a merry train they were — the twinkling 
stars ! 

" Out of the east came beautiful Vega, brightest 
of all the evening host. Near it floated the grace- 
ful Swan, among the foamy flakes that drift adown 
the Milky Way. 

" Then we heard the night Wind humming a 
sweet lullaby, telling how — 

" ' Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night, 
Sailed off in a wooden shoe ; 



BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

Sailed on a river of misty light, 

Into a sea of dew. 
" Where are you going and what do you wish ? n 

The old Moon asked the three. 
" We have come to hunt for the herring-fish 

That live in this beautiful sea ; 
Nets of silver and gold have we," 
Said Wynken, 
Blynken 
And Nod. 

u ' The old Moon laughed and sung a song, 
As they rocked in the wooden shoe ; 
And the wind that sped them all night long 

Ruffled the waves of dew. 
The little stars were the herring-fish 

That lived in that beautiful sea, 
" Now cast your nets wherever you wish, 

But never af eard are we ! " 
So cried the stars to the fishermen three, 
Wynken, 
Blynken 
And Nod. 

" c All night long their nets they threw 
For the fish in the twinkling foam ; 
Then down from the sky came the wooden shoe, 

Bringing the fishermen home. 
? Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed 

As if it could not be ; 
And some folks thought 'twas a dream they dreamed, 

Of sailing that beautiful sea ; 
But I shall name you the fishermen three, 
Wynken, 
Blynken 
And Nod. 



THE RAINDROPS OS THEIR JOURS EY. 1 

" i YVynken and Blynken are two little eyes, 
And Xod is a little head. 
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies, 

Is a wee one's trundle-bed ; 
So shut your eyes while mother sings 

Of wonderful sights that be, 
And you shall see the beautiful things, 

As you rock on the misty sea, 
"Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three, 
Wynken, 
Blynken 
And Nod.' 

— Eugene Field. 

"As the sweet song died away, kind Night 
showered her drowsy drops over our weary band ; 
and. swinging in the cradle of the gentle winds, 
we fell asleep. 

" Then we dreamed we were captives of the golden 
Sunbeams who carried us away in little white- 
winged boats to a far-off land, and set us at work 
in cold, dark cells. One day we ran awav. But 
just as we were gliding along a beautiful pathway, 
paved with golden sands, and bordered with bright 
flowers, we awoke to find ourselves still floating 
above the dark-blue ocean. 

" ' We saw the slow tides go and come, 

The curving surf-lines lightly drawn, 
The gray rock touched with tender bloom 
Beneath the fresh-blown rose of dawn.' 

— Whittle r. 



8 BROOK? AND BROOK BASINS. 

••The warm sun soon cleared away the pale 
mist, and just as far as our little cloud-eyes could 
reach, we saw broad fields and tall groves, 

•• Pretty white cottages nestled among the low 
hills. We heard the hum of the old mill-wheel. 
and the voices of happy children at play. 

•• But the fields were brown and bare. Cold 
Winter had just tied. We could still see his white 
footprints in the forest. 

- • Here is work for all ! ' rustled the silver 
water-dust, as it danced with the merry sunbeams. 
• The timid rabbit and sportive squirrels have 
watched the frostv autumn crawl slowly along, 
wrap itself in a warm cocoon of wintry snow, from 
which the spring, like a beautiful butterfly, will 

:>n burst forth, fluttering in bright blossoms. 

•• • The gardens will then be filled with seeds. 
We must help them spring up and grow. We 
will cover the fields with violets, and send golden 
grain to wave in the meadows. We will hang 
rosy apples in the orchards, and purple grapes in 
the vineyards. How happy everybody will be 
when all nature wakes from its long quiet sleep! ' 

*• Just then cold Winter turned and sent its 
icy breath whistling over the hilltops. How we 
shivered and huddled together ! The warm sun- 
beams fled away in' fright. Then, folding our 
little vapor-wings, we became drops of water, and 
began to patter down on the steep hillsides. 



.. i 



THE RAINDROPS CLV THEIR JOURS EY. 9 

The pastures lie baked, and the furrow is bare, 
The wells they yawn empty and dry ; 

But a rushing of water is heard in the air, 
And a rainbow leaps out in the sky.' 

— Anon. 

" How glad the old pines were to see us ! 

" The early birds sang their sweetest songs. 
You should have heard them chirp and twitter 
among the branches. 

" Merrily the little leopard frogs trilled, ' Pr-r-i\ 
pr-r-r. spring is here, pr-r-r. pr-r-r ! ' 

"And the old ones croaked their deep bass, 
1 Tb-b-b. tb-b-b. winter is gone, tb-b-b, tb-b-b ! ' 

-Pretty pink earthworms came crawling from 
their narrow cells to find out what all this fuss 
was about. Even the old brindle cow stood out 
in the rain, and blinked and blinked, for now the 
springs would all flow pure sweet water again. 

" What a stir it made just because the cold 
north-wind that morning scared the warm sun- 
beams away, and sent an April shower to bless the 
earth ! " 



10 BBOOKS AXD BROOK BASIS S. 



CHAPTER II. 

AT WORK IX THE DARK SOIL. 

" But what can little raindrops do ? ' piped a 
robin redbreast next morning, as he dipped his 
bill in the clear cool water. 

"Do?' bubbled the brook; " you should see us 
at work! " 

"Chip, chip, che-chip ! ,: chattered a saucy chip- 
monk who was listening to the story. 

u Chuck, chuck, che-chuck ! ' barked an old gray 
squirrel, and he snapped his teeth and shook his 
bushy tail at the thought of a raindrop doing any 
work. 

" All at once crack went the dead branch on which 
they sat, and splash they went into the water. 
How they did sputter and chatter as they scram- 
bled ashore, and ran to hide in the old stone walk 

" A merry ripple went up and clown the brook. 
The little wild-flower would have smiled too, but 
it was afraid that the gray squirrel would come 
and snip off its head. So it only nodded its pretty 
blossom, as the brooklet went on with its story. 

" Yes ; we all went merrily to work, for there 
are no lazy raindrops. The ground was full of 




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AT WORK IS THE DARK SOIL. 11 

cracks and holes, where our cousin Jack had been 
before us. 

••What! you do not know Jack Frost? ? he 
is a merrv fellow, brig-lit and full of life. Some- 
times he is mischievous, too. He likes to nip the 
flowers and fruits, — yes, and the toes and ears of 
little girls and boys. 

•• But he is very useful, for all that. Every 
year he comes to loosen the soil with his little icy 
ploughs, so that the raindrops can reach the roots 
and seeds in early springtime. 

•• Down, down, we ran into the thirsty ground, 
— down into rich loam that held fast nearly half 
our band. — down through sandv soil which could 
not stop our flowing, — clown to a bed of clay 
whose doors were closed against us. 

" How dark it was hi those tiny cells. Not one 
ray of light to show us the way ; not a sunbeam 
to cheer us on. 

"We met cold earthworms crawling along in 
their slender caves. Brave little creatures they 
are, toiling there in the dark. Day after clay they 
gnaw the leaves, and change them into loam. 
Then back to the surface they crawl, and bring 
their rich load. 

" < The tiny mounds by earthworms cast, — 
The richest gift in Nature's hand, — 
Contain the life of ages past, 

The hope of every flowering land. 



12 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASIS S. 

" ' Far less of wealth should we behold, 
Far less of happiness secure, 
If every second mound were gold, 
And every first a diamond pure.' 



-A. E. F. 



"We passed by families of queer little ants, 
building their pretty hills. How busy they were, 
carrying the soil to liolit and air. All over the 
hillside, you can now see hundreds of their rich 
mounds, waiting for the raindrops to come and 
spread them over the surface. 

" We took the loam wherever we went, and 
placed it near the roots and seeds. We even car- 
ried it into the plants and trees. The sun sent 
down its warm rays, and soon all nature was 
awake once more. 

"We ran into little grass culms, where tender 
blades had hidden from cold winter storms. Soon 
the fields were green again. We stole up into 
each sleeping bud, and rosy leaflets unfolded in 
the warm sunshine. We waked up every seed hi 
the garden, and their pretty heads came peeping 
through the dark soil. The air was filled with 
sweet songs of birds, and spring had come. 

" i Whether we look, or whether we listen, 
We hear life murmur, we see it glisten ; 

Every clod feels a stir of might, 
An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 

And groping blindly above it for light, 
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers ; 



AT WORK IN THE BARK SOIL. 13 

The cowslip startles in meadows green, 

The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 

And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean 
To be some happy creature's palace.' 

— Lowell. 

" Soon the snowy blossoms on the apple-trees 
hung like clouds. The violets in the meadow 
looked like the clear blue sky above. Still we 
toiled on in the dark ground. 

" Day after day, merry showers pattered down. 
One morning, as the silver drops came singing 
from the clouds, we heard them shout, ' Catch us, 
if you can ! ' 

"Away they scampered clown the hill, for the 
soil had water enough. 

" ' Wait for me ! ' cried one little fellow, and 
where do you think it was ? It had fallen straight 
into the tiniest buttercup on the whole hillside, 
and could not get out. It looked just like a dia- 
mond set in a little golden crown, only it was 
much prettier. Perhaps a passing sunbeam helped 
it out next day, but no one waited to see. 

••Weeks passed. The apple-blossoms sifted 
down like snow. Golden grain waved in the 
meadow. Rich yellow corn flung out its silken 
tassels along our brookside. 

" l All the long August afternoon, 

The little drowsy stream 
Whispers a melancholy tune, 

As if it dreamed of June 
And whispered in its dream.' 

— W. D. Howells. 



1-1 BROOKS AXD BROOK BASINS. 

"At length the branches hung low with ripe 
fruit. Yellow sheaves dotted the stubbly meadow. 
Long ears of corn stood ripening in the sun. Out 
in the grain fields we heard happy voices sing- 
ing — 

" i Heap high the farmer's wintry hoard ! 
Heap high the golden grain ! 
No richer gift has Autumn poured 
From out her lavish horn ! 

" ' Through vales of grass, and meads of flowers, 
Our ploughs their furrows made, 
While on the hills the sun and showers 
Of changeful April played. 



a ( 



We dropped the seed o'er hill and plain, 

Beneath the sun of May, 
And frightened from the sprouting grain 

The robber crows away. 

" ' All through the long bright days of June, 
Its leaves grew green and fair, 
And waved in hot midsummer's noon, 
Its soft and yellow hair. 

" i And now with Autumn's moonlit eves, 
Its harvest time has come, 
We pluck away the frosted sheaves, 
And bear the harvest home.' 

— Whittier. 

" At length our long, cold journey was ended, 
and we could come out of the dark soil, as other 
little raindrops had every day, and could play 
with the sunbeams once more. Soon we should 
be home again ! How happy we were ! 



AT WORK IS THE BARK SOIL. 15 

" Have you ever seen a spring ? You should 
have been there to see us burst from ground. I 
will tell you what it was like. 

" Go all the way up the hillside where we have 
been flowing. Gather up every merry ripple, every 
silver bubble, every sparkling sunbeam. 

" Take even the tiny whirlpools with their flakes 
of foam, — the gliding sheets and flying spray. 
Over all sprinkle a dozen of the brightest rain- 
bows you have ever seen. 

" Now carry them to yonder green spot on the 
hillside, where the pretty flowers love to cluster 
round; and there beneath the branches of the 
graceful willow, bury them deep in the dark, cold 
ground. 

" Then, when the sweet-voiced birds are awake, 
and the air is heavy with perfume, — there, where 
the sunbeams seem to beckon, let them all burst 
forth like a Jack-in-a-box, and run sparkling, 
bubbling, prattling, dancing, clashing down the 
hillside, and you will see our spring. Now — 

" i I'm hastening from the distant hills, 
With swift and noisy flowing ; 
Nursed by a thousand tiny rills, 
I'm ever onward going. 

" ' The willows cannot stay my course, 
With all their pliant wooing ; 
I sing and sing till I am hoarse, 
My prattling way pursuing. 



16 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

" i I kiss the pebbles as I pass, 

And hear them say they love me, 
I make obeisance to the grass 
That kindly bends above me. 

" ' So onward through the meads and dells 
I hasten, never knowing 
The secret motive that impels, 
Or whither I am going.' " 

— Eugene Field. 

As the voice of the brooklet seemed to die away 
in soft ripples along the banks, two nimble squir- 
rels sprang from the old stone wall, and ran down 
to the edge of the water. Can you guess what 
they whispered to the little brook ? 

This was the kind and gentle answer : " yes, 
be sure to come ! We know that you meant no 
harm. But remember that — 

" i Small service is true service while it lasts ; 

Of meanest friends, bright creatures, scorn not one ; 
The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, 

Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.' 

— Wordsworth. 

"We like to see you sporting among the 
branches, and we have helped to fill a great oak 
with sweet acorns for you to store away for the 
long, cold winter. 

" Come early to-morrow, and you shall hear 
about the beautiful valley in which you live. 

" Good by ! " 



AT WORK iy THE DARK SOIL. 17 

- Good by ! " 

Surely enough, when the brooklet began its 
story next morning, there sat Chip and Dick on 
the bank, looking just as happy as good little 

squirrels ought to look. 



18 BROOKS ASD BROOK BASIXS. 



CHAPTER III. 

OX THE WATER-PARTING. 

"Behold the rocky wall 
That down its sloping sides 
Pours the swift raindrops, blending, as they fall, 
In rushing river-tides ! 

"Yon stream, whose sources run, 
Turned by a pebble's edge, 
Is Athabasca, rolling towards the sun 

Through the cleft mountain ledge. 

" The slender rill had strayed, 
But for the slanting stone, 
To evening's ocean, with the tangled braid 
Of foam-flecked Oregon." 

— Holmes. 

" Heke you are, little squirrels, bright and 
early," babbled the brook, next morning. " But 
where is our pretty friend Bunny ? 

" Ah, there he comes, hopping along. And here 
comes Robin Redbreast, too." 

The little wild-flower nodded its round head, 
and the squirrels shook their bushy tails. That is 
the way they said good morning to Bunny and 
Redbreast. 




Bunny's Home. 



CLY THE WATEB-PARTIXG. 19 

''Did all the raindrops sink into the dark soil?" 
asked Chip, as soon as they were ready for the 
story. 

" no ! ' rippled the brook. " Shall I tell you 
what became of the others, and what they saw on 
the hillside ? " 

" Please do ! ' chimed the whole party, and so 
the brooklet began. 

" We all felt very sad when we parted from our 
brother raindrops on the hilltop. But some were 
on one side of a low ridge, and some on the other. 
TTe could not climb over, for raindrops can only 
run down hill. 

" • Good by ! ' cried our tiny brothers. 

•• * Good by ! ? we answered sadly, and we have not 
seen them since. Perhaps we shall all meet again 
when we go back to the sea, — but who can tell?" 

Just then, two silver bubbles came wriggling up 
from the bed of the brook. Thev looked like tear- 
drops, and we thought the pretty pebbles must be 
weeping at the sad story. But the brooklet chat- 
tered on. 

*• The same day that we fell on the hill, a teacher 
came with a class of happy children to visit our 
valley home. She did not know that raindrops 
could hear, and we did not tell her. 

•• They all climbed to the top of the ridge, just 
where we had fallen. Then thev could look into 
the vallev on either side. 



20 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

"'When the rain falls on the very top of the 
■ridge, which way will the drops flow ? ' asked the 
teacher. 

"Every little raindrop on the hillside knew the 
answer ; but we all kept still. 

" Many pupils said that the water would flow into 
our valley, but others thought that it would run 
down the slope on the other side of the ridge. 
One bright little girl said that it might flow either 
way. 

••Then the teacher asked them to find other spots 
where the raindrops might turn either way. She 
gave them sharp sticks to set up all along the very 
top of the ridge. 

"'Here's a place ! ' * Here's another ! ' rang their 
merry voices. What sport they had! One little 
boy hit his bare toe against a stump, and away he 
rolled down the steep hillside. It didn't hurt him, 
and he ran back laughing. 

" Soon there was a long row of tinv stakes all 
around the valley, — up by the spring, and on both 
sides. Then the teacher told her little folks that 
the very top of the ridge, on which the poles stood, 
was called a ' water-parting.' We all thought it 
a good name, for that was just where we parted 
from our raindrop brothers last spring. 

" The little children found only one water-parting 
around our valley, but my tiny rills know that 
there are two. Many of the drops that soak into 



OX THE WATER-PARTING, 21 

the soil settle till they reach a layer of clay or 
rock on which they can flow. The highest part of 
this clay-bed or ledge forms a parting or i divide ' 
for the underground streams, just as the top of our 
ridge does for the surface-water. 

"But we must not lose sight of the teacher yet. 
Her next question was a queer one : ' To which 
valley does the water-parting belong?' 

"Do you think that you can tell, pretty rabbit?" 

" I think that it belongs to both," was Bunny's 
answer. 

" It isn't in either." piped Redbreast. 

"It comes just between the valleys." said Chip. 

" I don't know/" sighed the little wild-flower, 
"for I have never moved from this spot." 

The old gray squirrel gave a knowing wink, and 
said. " That water-parting is on the edge of both 
valleys. The slopes meet there." 

Which was right ? 

The silver brook only bubbled softly, as it went 
on with its story. 

" That ridge is the boundary of our valley home. 
All the raindrops that fall on this side belong in 
our family. All that fall on the other side run 
away to other streams. But here comes a shower! 
If Bunny and Dick will go up to the ridge, they 
can see just what happens." 

Away they jumped, and reached the top as the 
drops began to fall. 



22 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

"Come under this old stump, Bunny," said 
Dick, "and the rain will not wet your soft fur." 

How pretty they looked, sitting there together ! 
Two pairs of bright eyes peeped out at the rain. 
Two pairs of sharp ears listened to the patter on 
the old stump. 

" look, Bunny ! we are on the water-parting. 
Here is just where the raindrops are parting. 
Many are also sinking into the ground. Here go 
some down this slope, and there go the others into 
our valley. See! they are forming two little 
rills." 

" It has stopped raining now, Dick. Let us fol- 
low these tiny streams both ways. I will go to 
the right, and you to the left. Then we will re- 
turn to the brookside, and tell what we have 
seen." 

#JA, M. JA. J*. J*. JL 

^F w tv> ~rr tF tF 

"Why, here comes the rabbit all alone ! " sighed 
the little wild-flower. "What has happened to 
Dick?" 

" Ha ! ha ! " laughed Bunny. "I played a joke 
on him. He will come back by and by. Shall I 
tell you what I saw?" 

" yes, tell us your story. We have been wait- 
ing to hear it." 

So Bunny told how they went to the top of the 
hill, and hid in the dry stump. How they watched 
the drops fall on the ridge. How he had agreed 



OX THE WATEB-PABTISG. 23 

to follow the rill on one side, while Dick went 
down the other. 

••It was such a joke! Ha! ha! Poor Dick, he 
did not think ! His rill will lead him away over 
into the other valley." Then Bunny rolled in the 
sand, and laughed till tears ran down his soft 
cheeks. 

"But what did you see. Bunny ? " asked Chip. 

"0 yes, I forgot to tell my story. The tiny 
streams moved slowly at first, till they came to 
the place where the boy rolled down the hill. 
Then they pitched headlong over and ran to the 
bottom as fast as I could jump. 

" How pretty they looked as they went leaping 
over the stones. Many little rills flowed together, 
but there were low water-partings between the 
others that kept them from joining. They had a 
merry time. I heard one little fellow singing — 

" l One morn I ran away, 
A madcap, noisy rill ; 
And many a prank that day, 
I played adown the hill.' 



— Anon. 



" Then the tiny streams wound slowly across the 
meadow, and w r here do you think they went ?' : 

•• Here we are ! " rang a merry chorus. 

Surely enough, all the little rills had run into 
our brook, and had just reached the place where 
Bunny was telling his story. 



24 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

"Here comes Dick!" cried sharp-eyed Chip, as 
down the hillside tripped the graceful squirrel, 
hopping over the tufts and hollows. 

His first words were, " That was a good joke, 
Bunny, but it turned out well. I found a big nut- 
tree over the ridge. As soon as the frost comes to 
open the burrs, I shall hide the nuts away under 
the old stump. I wish you could eat some, Bunny. 
Little Chip may have as many as he wants this 
winter." 

"You are always kind to me," whispered Chip, 
as he rubbed his pretty cheek against Dick's soft 
fur. 

"But what else did you see over the ridge?" 
rustled the wild-flower. 

" I followed the rills on the other side till they 
all flowed into another brook just like ours. Now 
what do you think of this ? That little stream was 
telling the selfsame story that we heard yesterday. 
I wonder if all brooks work as hard as ours?" 
queried Dick. 

Robin Redbreast was very quiet. He had been 
thinking. All at once he dipped his head, as 
robins often do, gave a few quick hops, flapped his 
wings, and chirped so loud that he scared poor 
Bunny half out of his wits. 

"What is the matter?" asked Dick, as he stuck 
his tail straight out, ready to run. 

"When I flew northward last spring," piped 



ON THE WATER-PARTING. 25 

Redbreast, "I was caught by a strong wind that 
blew me far out of my course. I saw a great 
stream, wider than this whole meadow. I cannot 
tell how long it was, for it reached farther than I 
could see. 

••How the wind blew I I flew over high hills, 
vet I could always see the river in the valley. 
But as I went higher and higher up the long slope, 
the stream became ever smaller and smaller. 

••At length I saw a high mountain whose top 
was above the clouds. On its side, the stream 
looked very narrow. Over the great highland I 
flew, and saw onlv a little brook starting: near its 
highest point. 

••Then, on the other side. I saw another stream, 
— yes. many little rills and brooklets. Down they 
ran. and flowed together in the lowlands. Thev 
made a river that was wide and deep. It was just 
like our brook, onlv many times larger. Awav. 
as far as I could see. the dark-blue river wound 
across the plain. 

" ' So blue yon winding river flows. 
It seems an outlet from the sky ; 
Where, waiting till the west wind blow-. 



The freighted clouds at anchor lie." 



Longfellow. 



"At length the storm passed by. Then I flew 
north to my old apple-tree, just as fast as my wings 
could carry me. 



26 BROOKS AND BROOK BASIXS. 

" Now I see it all ! The top of that high moun- 
tain is a water-parting like our low ridge. It parts 
the raindrops for those great rivers, as the ridge 
does for our brooks." 

" You are right, little bird/' rippled the brook. 
"But all water-partings are not high, or even like 
ours on the hill. Some are so low that you can 
scarcely see them. Yet they part great rivers. 

" A parting may be on mountains, hills, or even 
low plains. Often it is on all three, for it must 
go around a valley. It need only be high enough 
to part the raindrops." 

The pretty wild-flower nodded to Redbreast, and 
whispered, " What a wonderful bird you are ! ' 

All the others thought so, too. 



IN THE BROOK-BED. 27 



CHAPTER IV. 

IN THE BROOK-BED. 

"Good morning, Dick." 

" Good morning, Bunny ; where are you going ? " 
"Down to the brookside. We shall find Chip 
and Redbreast there before us, this morning. I 
saw them pass by some time ago. There they are 
now. And hark ! that is the brooklet singing. 
Let us sit here on this pretty knoll and listen." 

" ( I chatter over stony ways, 
In little sharps and trebles, 
I bubble into eddying bays, 
I babble on the pebbles. 

" ' I wind about and in and out, 
With here a blossom sailing, 
And here and there a lusty trout, 
And here and there a grayling. 

"'And here and there a foamy flake 
Upon me as I travel, 
With many a silvery water-break 
Among my golden gravel. 

"'I draw them all along and flow 

To join the brimming river, 

For men may come and men may go, 

But I go on forever.' n 

— Tennyson: 



28 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

" Bravo, little brook ! ' shouted the rabbit. 
" What a pretty song ! ,: 

" Here are Bunny and Dick/' called out the lively 
chipmonk. -"Now you can begin your story." 

" What shall it be to-day, Chip ? ' asked the 
brooklet. 

" 0, tell us, please, how the raindrops found their 
way into the brook-bed," said the happy little 
creature; and so the silver drops in the passing 
stream began their story. 

" We told you how we came out in the bubbling 
spring, but we did not tell you that there are sev- 
eral of these sparkling fountains in our valley. 
All around the foot of the hill, and on its sides, 
you will find them creeping forth to form the tiny 
rills and brooklets. 

"When we came out of the dark ground, we 
found many slopes on the hillside. Some were so 
steep that we could roll straight down into little 
pools. Others were covered with sharp rocks that 
cut us into foamy sheets. In one place, we ran so 
fast that a barefoot boy who came to fish clapped 
his hands and shouted, ' 0, see the pretty rapids ! ' 

" Now we would only glide over the yellow sand, 
without a ripple on the smooth surface. Then the 
banks would almost meet, and how we would rush 
through ! Again they would widen, and spread us 
out into round ponds. 

"So you see, my little friends, that a brook must 



IN THE BROOK-BED. 29 

follow its slope. If it rushes, if it glides, if it 
courses straight away, or winds about, it is because 
it obeys the slope of its bed." 

"But why must you always run down hill?" 
asked Dick. 

" That we cannot tell. The snow-white blos- 
soms fall to earth. Later, the apples follow. Our 
pretty robin beats the air with his wings, and 
floats upwards into the sky. But let him furl 
those tiny sails, and he falls with the apple. 

" We only know that something draws us down 
the slope. We feel it at work, and call it 'grav- 
ity.' Sometime we may know what it is. 

••Moved by the same secret force, many streams 
flow clown all sides of our valley. They reach the 
place where the side-slopes meet, and then where 
do you think they go ? ' 

" They cannot flow back again," said the wild- 
flower, meekly. "They must make ponds." 

" The slopes are so wide that the place where 
they meet is a long hollow," chirped the robin. 
"If they form a pond, it must be very long." 

" The slopes meet in the bottom of our valley, 
too," added Dick, looking about. " But I cannot 
see any long pond here." 

The brooklet seemed to chuckle at the answer, 
and dimpled waves ran from shore to shore. 

" 0, I see ! ' rustled the wild-flower. " It is in, 
the bed of our own brook ! " 



SO BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

" So it is ! ' chimed the merry voices ; and they 
all laughed heartily to think how long they had 
tried to find the place where the slopes met. 

" We ought to have seen that, Bunny," said 
Dick. " Only yesterday we followed the rills down 
the slopes, and saw them run into the brook. Yes, 
the side-slopes of our valley meet in the bed of the 
stream." 

"And I see why the brook always flows one 
way," cried Chip. " It is because the bed slopes 
from the source towards the mouth." 

" Now I know why all streams are not alike," 
piped Redbreast. " Small ones flow in little valleys, 
and have only short slopes to drain." 

" But the stream in a large valley would be 
small if only a few showers fell on its slopes," 
added the wild-flower. 

" Deep beds must lie along the lower edges of 
steep slopes," said Dick ; " and I should think that 
gradual slopes, like these in the meadow, would 
form wide streams." 

" But why do some brooks wind about ?" asked 
the robin. 

" They must follow the low line along which the 
slopes meet," was Bunny's answer. " If the slopes 
come together in a straight line, the stream will be 
straight. In the gently sloping meadow, the bed 
winds more than it does on the steep hillside. 
Slow brooks must wander about more than swift 



ones." 



IN THE BROOK-BED. 31 

"You are right, Bunny/' bubbled the stream. 
<6 That is nearly always true of large rivers as well 
as tiny rills. A swift stream can wear a straight 
bed for itself, by cutting away the lower edges of 
the side-slopes. But a slow one is easily turned 
aside. 

" Sometimes a bed widens into a valley with in- 
ward slopes on all sides. Then the stream spreads 
out and forms a pond or lake. Nearly all ponds 
are wide places in brooks ; and nearly all lakes are 
still wider places in rivers. 

" During a rainy season, ponds and lakes store 
up water and prevent it from making torrents in 
brooks and rivers. Low bogs and marshy places 
also hold back a part of the rainfall, and feed 
the streams during drv seasons. 

"Marshes are often half pond and half meadow. 
They are like shallow ponds filled with growing 
mosses, ferns, and coarse grasses ; but they help to 
regulate the supply of water, and to prevent 
streams from overflowing their banks. 

•• Now if you will look at the branches or tribu- 
taries flowing into the main brook, you will find 
that there are three kinds. There is the little 
stream that runs down the steep hillside, and winds 
a long way across the meadow. Another flows 
nearly its whole length on the bluffs or low plateau, 
and then leaps clown into a small pool near our 
rapids. A third rises on the bluffs, and reaches 



32 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

the lowland by a series of cascades and rapids, like 
a stairway. 

"If we were to travel the wide world over, we 
should see countless streams, large and small, wide 
and narrow, deep and shallow, rapid and slow. 
But each would have a slope like one of these three 
tributaries. We will therefore call our three slopes, 
down which the little brooks flow, ' types ' of the 
slopes that send all streams to the sea. 

" Put on your thinking-caps now, my wise little 
friends, and tell me the difference between a water- 
parting and a brook-bed." 

" The parting is a ridge, and the bed a valley,'' 
came the first answer from the nodding wild- 
flower. 

"You are a bright-eyed posy," said Bunny. 
" When Dick and I were under the old stump, we 
saw the ridge part the raindrops, and we know 
that the tiny rills brought many of them to our 
brook-bed in the valley." 

XJ 

" The water-parting goes around the valley, but 
the brook-beds cut across," chattered the lively 
chipmonk. 

" I think that the bed is just like the parting," 
began Dick. " Where the edges of the slopes join 
on the ridge, they form a water-parting. Where 
they meet in the valley, they make a brook-bed." 

" If they are alike, Dick," piped Redbreast, 
" why doesn't the brook-bed scatter the rain- 
drops ? " 



IN THE BROOK-BED. 33 

" I see ! " called out Chip ; and surely enough the 
little fellow did. " The parting is where the upper 
edges of the slopes come together, while the lower 
edges meet in the deepest part of the brook-bed, — 
in the channel." 

" Well done, Chip ! " cried Dick. "We thought 
that out very well together, didn't we ? The bed 
is the bottom of the valley, and the parting is the 
top or rim." 

" You have all clone well," rippled the happy 
brook. " Now I will tell you another name for 
our valley. It is called a ' brook basin.' All the 
land that sends its raindrops to the streams in our 
valley belongs to our basin. 

" Shall I tell you of a great river-bed that I once 
saw as I went sailing over the earth in the white- 
winded clouds ? 

" Far away beyond the hill over which the sun 
rose this morning, there is a great forest. Eobin 
would have to fly straight away for many long 
days and nights to reach it. Indeed, I fear our 
little bird would die on the way, for he would have 
to try to cross the wide ocean. His strong wings 
would need to rest many times, and he would fall 
into the sea. 

" One time we floated over there in a great 
cloud. We saw lakes so wide that their shores 
were below the horizon on every side. There were 
mountains, too, so high that their white tops 



84 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

seemed to touch the sky. They looked just like 
the great banks of rain-clouds that often roll up 
before a storm. 

" There were also countless streams, — some 
rising in the mountains, others flowing from the 
lakes. At length we saw the place where they all 
ran together and formed a river that was deep 
and wide. 

" Many of the raindrops fell from the clouds, 
and started on a long journey with this mighty 
stream. 

" You should see the water rushing over the 
steep places in the rocky bed. How it roars and 
foams ! 

" Far below, it glides along towards another 
high bank. Down it plunges with a crash like 
thunder. Here and there other streams flow in, 
till it looks like a long, wide lake, reaching from 
sky to sky, across a great plain. 

"Day after day it glides and rushes along its 
bed. Then it flows through a land where no more 
rain falls, and no other streams come to join it. 
For miles and miles it has not a single tributary. 

" On every side the hot sun beats down. The 
air is stifling. The banks are parched and dry. 
Can anything live in such a place ? We shall see 
by and by. 

"Down, down we go. Weeks pass. Still the 
same hot sun, the stifling air, the shining stream, 



iy THE BROOK-BED. 35 

the thirsty soil. \There is the water going ? 
What is it doing ? 

" At length we see roimclecl house-tops. We 
flow under wide bridges. AVe pass large cities. 
Then the river divides and flows slowly among 
hundreds of low islands, till it pours its muddy 
water into a great salt sea. 

" This is the wonderful river Nile that flows 
through a vast desert. Sometime I will tell you 
what the great stream does as it follows its bed 
over the slopes of that dry country. Now. my 
little friends, I must bid you good night, for 
air ea civ — 



" i Day hath put on his jacket, and around 

;ta 

— Holmes. 



His burning bosom buttoned it with stars.' ' 



36 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 



CHAPTER V. 

BROOK BASIXS AXD SYSTEMS. 

" ' Thou, ever joyous rivulet, 
Dost dimple, leap, and prattle yet ; 
And sporting with the sands that pave 

The windings of thy silver wave, 
And dancing to thy own wild chime, 
Thou laughest at the lapse of time.' " 

— Bryant. 

Thus sang the cheerful robin, while he flew down 
to join his friends by the brookside, next morning, 
as Bunny asked the silvery drops to tell how they 
found their way out of the cold ground. 

" 0, that was easy enough. We just ran along 
till we found a place where the clay-bed came to 
the surface on the hillside." 

" But how did you know which way to flow?' 
chirped the robin. 

" At first we did not know. But when many 
raindrops met on the bed of clay, we soon found 
a way. Isn't it strange that in this wide world of 
ours, there is no level land where the raindrops 
fall ? " 

" Ho, ho, Master Brooklet ! ' cried Dick. 



BROOK BASINS AND SYSTEMS. 37 

•• Where are your eyes ? Our own meadow is 
just as level as the pond." 

But the watchful wild-flower knew better than 
that. Had it not seen the dimpled waves go danc- 
ing by all summer ? 

" Can you tell me why our brook doesn't flow 
the other way, Dick ? ' it whispered softly. 

" Chip, chip ! hurrah for posy ! ' sang a merry 
voice from under the leaves. 

" You are right, little flower," bubbled the 
stream. " I could not move if the meadow were 
level. In the open air I must flow down the 
slopes, except when the sunbeams spread my vapor- 
wings. Where water runs, the land must change 
its level." 

"But wait," replied Dick. "Here is a pond in 
which the water only stands, and does not flow 
away." Then he blinked his bright eye as if to 
say, " How do you explain that ? " 

The wild-flower only nodded and asked, " Why 
does it not spread out evenly over the whole 
meadow ?" 

""Because the banks hold, — oh, I see!' said 
the honest squirrel. " The land must slope 
towards the pond. Our meadow looks level, but 
it must slope a little. If the meadow were as high 
in one place as in another, the water could not 
drain away, could it ? 

" Then there would be no brooks, no ponds, — 



38 BROOKS AXD BROOK BASINS. 

only muddy fields. The whole surface would be 
covered with water. All the plants would die. 
There would be no hills, no valleys, no streams. 
Poor Bunny could not dig in the ground, and I 
don't know what the squirrels would find to eat. 
Why ! the salt ocean would flow over the land, 
and then — but we need not think of that, for the 
fields do slope." 

" Yes/' added the brook, " even the beds of rock 
and clay beneath the surface slope. That is how 
the raindrops got out of the dark soil. We just 
ran along on the clay-bed, and leaped into the 
warm air. 

" When there has been no rain for weeks, the 
water that is in the soil keeps flowing out. The 
ponds and marshes also give up their store of water, 
and the streams flow on during the dry season. 

" Which of you can tell me how much land is 
drained by our brook ? ' : 

" All the land in the valley sends its water to 
the brook-bed," piped the robin. 

" You must drain all the slopes on this side of 
the highland," said Chip. 

"All the land that slopes downward to the 
brook-bed must send its water into the brook," 
added Dick. 

" The whole basin within the water-parting must 
drain into our brook-bed," was Bunny's answer. 

"Is every basin bounded by a water-parting ? ' : 
asked the wild-flower. 



BROOK BASINS AXD SYSTEMS. 39 

"Yes, every basin on earth/' rippled the stream. 
" Beyond the hill, there is another valley in which 
Dick saw a brooklet flowing. The slopes that 
meet to form its bed stretch upwards on both 
sides till they reach the rims of other basins. 

"The upper edges of these slopes are water- 
partings, or lines of highest level, between the val- 
leys. 

" Little rills have basins also, bounded by lower 
water-partings ; and so have ponds, lakes, rivers, 
and even the great oceans. The surface of the 
whole earth is made up of basins and beds sur- 
rounded by a network of water-partings. 

" Now let us begin at the rim of our valley and 
trace all the streams. First, there are the tiny 
rills that trickle among the grasses during a rain- 
storm, and form the thread-like rivulets. Then 
these little streams wind about to join our brook. 
• "All the streams together form a c system/ by 
which the valley or basin is drained. A system in 
a brook basin is called a ' brook system '; in a 
river basin, a ' river system.' Thus we may have 
also a ' lake svstem,' or an w ocean system.' 

" Then there are other streams that belong in 
our brook system, but which we cannot see. They 
are the tiny rills that flow underground and feed 
the springs. We must not forget these little 
branches, for they are as useful as the surface rills. 

" Between a basin and its system there are lines 



40 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS 

which we call ' shores. 5 Thev are the lines along; 
which the slopes pass under the water, or the lines 
which show how high the water rises in the beds. 
Shores are the boundary lines of beds. Thev are 
also the lower edges of basins. A shore separates 
a bed from a basin. 

" If we wished to be very exact, we should per- 
haps say that a basin is bounded at its upper edge 
by a water-parting, at its lower edge by a shore, 
and that the basin is made up of the slopes that 
lie between. 

•• Now I have a few questions to ask you. and 
then I will tell you of a great river valley that I 
saw a few years ago. far away towards the midday 
sun. 

" What is the difference between a basin and a 
system ? " : 

"A basin is land, and a system is water." said 
Chip. 

" I should say that a basin is made of slopes, 
and a system of streams." was Bunny's answer. 

" Doesn't a system carry water away from a 
basin ? " 

••It does, bright flower." replied Dick. "I do 
hope that you will grow here again next summer. 
AVe should be very lonely without you. I shall 
look for you as soon as the snow melts." 

The pretty wild-flower trembled, it was so happy. 
Then it nodded its little head as if to say. u Yes, I 
will try to be here with you all." 



BROOK BASINS AND SYSTEMS. 41 

Just then the brooklet asked another question : 
" Have the basins of all our rivulets the same 
shape?" 

' ; 0, no ! ' chirped the robin. i: I saw one, as I 
came along this morning, that spreads out like a 
maple-leaf. It is near the old pine, and is as long 
as it is wide." 

" Near the large spring there is a basin that lies 
among a group of knolls," said Bunny. "There is 
a long narrow valley leading from it towards the 
meadow. The upper part of the basin looks like 
a water-lily leaf, with the narrow valley for its 
slender stem. The tiny streams that flow in it 
look like a beautiful vase-shaped elm with wide- 
spreading top on a long trunk." 

" Between the two bluffs, on the east side of the 
pond, there is a very long basin that is shaped like 
a blade of grass," added Dick. "And there is 
another very queer one in the rough land near the 
spring. It is like a row of leaves on a single stem. 
There are four round valleys joined by narrow 
gullies. In each valley there is a small pond, but 
one slender stream runs through all." 

"You have sharp eyes, my friends/' rippled the 
brook. " There are hundreds of basins shaped 
like each of these, and so we will call the valleys 
of our little rivulets •' types ' of the great river 
basins that cover the earth's surface. Now for my 
story of the Amazon : 



42 BROOKS AXD BROOK BASINS. 

"It is nearly midday, and if Redbreast should 
fly far south to the land just under the sun, he 
would see hundreds of white-capped mountains. 
They are many times higher than the one which 
he flew over in the storm. 

"All along the east side of this great highland 
there are countless streams flowing in as many 
basins. If we could see ten times as far, we could 
see ten times as many. 

"'Down the steep slopes they run, sparkling in 
the clear sunlight. Here and there tliev flow 
together, just like our slender rivulets, only many 
times wider and deeper. 

"Now they enter a dense forest, and from all 
sides other streams come in, till they form a great 
river. Its basin is so wide that we cannot see 
across it. 

"On, on, for days and weeks, it winds along a 
low plain, through a forest so thick that the sun- 
light can scarcely creep in. Again and again 
great rivers flow in, till it looks like a vast sea. 
Its basin is so wide that if our robin should flv all 
day and all night he could not cross it. 

" At length the mighty stream pours its muddy 
water into the dark-blue ocean, and the raindrops 
that fell on the distant mountain sides have 
reached their home. All the rills and rivulets, 
brooks and rivers, that join to make this great 
stream belong to the Amazon system ; while every 




Trace the Water Partings. 



BBOOK BASINS AND SYSTEMS. 43 

slope that sends one drop of water towards the 
dark forest, and into the broad river, is a part of 
the Amazon basin." 

As the brooklet ended its story, the sun sank 
slowly behind the low hills. The evening breeze 
came floating into the valley, and seemed to 
whisper — 

" The clay is done, and the darkness 
Falls from the wings of night, 
As a feather is wafted downward 
From an eagle in its flight." 

— Longfellow. 



44 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 



CHAPTER VI. 

HOW SOIL IS MADE AND CARRIED. 

" See the brooklets flowing, 
Downward to the sea, 
Pouring all their treasures 
Bountiful and free ! 

" Yet to help their giving, 
Hidden springs arise; 
Or, if need be, showers 
Feed them from the skies." 

— Adelaide A. Procter. 

"Ah! it has been raining/' thought Bunny , as 
he peeped from his burrow to see the sunrise. 

" How the water has worn the hillside ! See the 
little valleys it has made. It must have rained 
very hard. I will call for Dick and Chip, and then 
hurry down to the brook. What a wonderful story 
it will have to tell this morning." 

#•&. M, M. J£. JA. «!£. 

"75* W ^F W W *7P 

"How muddy you are, little stream/' whispered 
the wild-flower, as it shook the raindrops from its 
pretty head. 

"And how wide!'' chirped Redbreast. "But 
here come our friends down the hillside, and now 
we can hear the brooklet's story." 



HOW SOIL IS MADE AXD CARRIED. 45 

" tell us. please, where all this muddy water 
comes from/' were the first words of the chip- 
monk. *• What will you ever do with it ? You are 

t- 

not nearly so pretty as you were yesterday." 

" When I have told you my story. Chip, you 
mav think that I am much prettier with my dark 
load than when I was a clear stream. 

••Last night a heavy shower fell in our valley. 
The hillsides were covered with tiny streams that 
chased each other down the slopes like playful 
squirrels. 

-But my little rills were hard at work. You 
should have seen them roll the pebbles down the 
bluffs, and break off the sharp edges. Then they 
washed the sand together, and rounded its corners. 

•• They wore deep gullies in the steep places, 
and carried away the finest soil. They swept the 
light loam down the slopes. They ran away with 
the pretty earthworm mounds and tiny ant-hills. 
They spread the rich soil all over the meadow, and 
some of it they even brought to me. That is why 
I am so muddy this morning. 

••0. my little rills were not lazy last night ! 

-But the work is not vet done, as you will see. 
I am flowing towards the rapids, and will soon be 
in the pond. I want you all to follow and see 
what becomes of my load of silt, or fine rich soil. 
You may also throw some sand and pebbles into 
the rapids, and then watch closely/' 



46 BROOKS AXD BROOK BASINS. 

Bunny and Dick scraped some gravel from the 
bank, and it fell into the water just where it 
rushed over the steep place in the brook-bed. 

•• How muddy it is ! ' chirped the robin. " We 
cannot see the bottom."' 

••Look here! " shouted Dick. " The pebbles have 
all sunk in the rapids. Some are rolling down the 
steep bed. The rushing water must be moving 
them there." 

••And here is the sand below the rapids! " cried 
Chip. •• It is spreading over the bed of the brook 
like a great oak-leaf." 

-Perhaps the stream cannot carry it any far- 
ther," said Bunny. " In the pool just below the 
rapids, the water moves very slowly." 

••Here goes the black loam!" piped Redbreast. 
"It is flowing into the pond now." 

They all ran quickly to the spot, and surely 
enough, there it was in the still water. 

"Watch closely!" bubbled the brook. 

•• The silt is settling now." said sharp-eyed Chip. 
•• The bed of the pond, near where the stream flows 
in. is nearly black. see ! it is making a bank of 
soil there !" 

•• Why doesn't it spread all over the bed of the 
pond. Dick ? " asked the robin. 

•• It may be because the water flows very slowly, 
and must now lay clown its fine soil, just as it 
dropped its sand near the foot of the rapids," was 
the gray squirrel's answer. 



HOW SOIL 18 MADE AND CARRIED. 47 

"You are right, Dick/' rippled the brook. "I 
must leave nearly all of my silt here. I can carry 
it no farther. It is not the current, or forward 
motion, that keeps the sediment from settling 
higher up the stream. It is the rolling, mixing 
motion of the water. 

"All day long I shall pour this rich loam into 
the pond, and build the muddy bed 'higher and 
higher. 

*• Now, my little companions, you know how all 
the brooks in the world are at work, — yes, and 
the tiny rills and large rivers. They are all doing 
just what you have seen me do to-day. 

" They are wearing down the slopes, grinding 
the pebbles and sand into fine soil, and carrying 
their rich loads down to the lowlands. Grain by 
grain, the hills are covering the valleys, for it is 
the work of water to wear down the highlands, 
and fill in all the low places, so that the land will 
slope evenly from the water-partings to the sea. 

" If you will look about, you will see many 
places where the streams have been at work. All 
along the foot of the bluffs, there are large stones 
that have rolled down the steep slopes, after the 
rills have washed the fine sand and loam from 
around them. You will also find them along the 
shore, where they have dropped from the banks. 

" When I was here many years ago, the bluffs 
were much nearer than now. But we have worn 



48 BROOKS AND BROOK BASIM*. 

them away a little during every rainstorm, and my 
little rills will work on to try to make the hills 
level with the meadow. 

" Now look once more at the mud-banks forming 
in the pond. They are made of the richest soil in 
our valley. The water is very high now, but when 
it has settled, vou will find little islands where the 
silt-beds are. 

" When it rains again, I shall bring clown more 
soil, and make the muddy bank still wider on the 
pond-bed. After a long time, the little shallow 
place will be filled with loam, and then there will 
be no pond, but another fertile spot in the meadow. 
The green place above the rapids shows where 
there was once a pretty pond that has been filled 
in this way. 

"The islands that you see growing are called a 
1 delta.' In the mouths of great rivers, deltas often 
form so large that cities are built upon them. 
Some are also covered with grain fields and forests. 
Deltas are made by all muddy streams that flow 
into ponds, lakes, seas, or any bodies of water that 
have but little motion. Of course they cannot 
grow in water that runs swiftly, because the silt is 
swept away and cannot settle. 

" You must not think that a delta is the only 
place where a stream deposits its rich load. All 
over the valley, in every nook and corner, the rain- 
drops and rills spread the fine soil. But they 
sweep the greater part into the lowlands. 



HOW SOIL 18 MADE AND CARRIED. 49 

••Wherever the water eddies into little bays and 
becomes calm, you will find a dark muddy bottom. 
There you will also see the water-plants growing. 
All up and clown my shores, behind nearly every 
bend in my course, along every part of the banks 
where the current is weak, the fertile land is form- 
ing. 

•• But my greatest work is done along the beds 
of the tiny rills that spring into life only during a 
rainstorm. Wee little streams thev are, trickling 
clown every part of the slopes, — so small that 
even the tufts of grass and rounded pebbles turn 
them aside. They flow into every crack and crev- 
ice all over the slanting sides of our valley, and 
spread a feast of the finest and richest soil for the 
plants. Every time it rains the work goes on." 

-But what becomes of the rills when the storm 
is over?" asked Bunny. 

"A part of their water sinks into the earth, and 
forms underground rills that feed the springs ; 
some creeps into the roots and seeds ; some runs 
down the surface of the slopes and carries soil to 
the brooks ; and some is taken away by the sun- 
beams. 

•• You can see a picture of these tiny rills if you 
will look closely at the upper surface of a large 
maple-leaf. The finest network that you can find 
will show how the rills cover the slopes during 
a heavy shower ; and just as these hair-veins all 



50 B BOOKS AXD BllOOK BASIS S. 

lead to the great mid-vein of the leaf, so the* rills 
all run together down the slopes, becoming larger 
and larger as more of them are joined, till they 
unite with the mid-stream of our valley, — the 
brook that flows along the line of lowest levels. 

" Little by little the rills wear away the slopes 
each year, and help to lower the surface of the 
highlands. 

" There are also our cascades and rapids, where 
the beds are steep and are often rapidly worn away. 
Sometimes the melting snow makes torrents in the 
narrow gullies on the hillsides. The rushing water 
will then sweep large stones and coarse gravel 
into the meadows, except where the trees and 
bushes check the flow of the water and stop the 
rolling stones. 

" There were no torrents in our valley years ago, 
when the surface was covered with trees. Only 
about one-half as much rain fell on the ground 
then as now, because so much was taken in by the 
bark and leaves. A great deal also followed the 
tree-trunks into the soil. 

" Then, too, in winter the snow that lay in the 
forest melted very slowly, because the warm sun- 
beams could not reach it so easily, and strong 
winds could not sweep over the drifts and scatter 
the flakes through the air. 

" In those days the streams flowed more evenly 
than now. During the rainy season they rose a 



HOW SOIL IS MADE AND CARRIED. 51 

little, and then fell slightly while the dry months 
lasted. But they were never without water. 

" Now when heavy rain falls, or snow melts, 
the banks cannot hold all the water that rushes 
down the slopes. But after weeks pass without 
rain, and the fields are brown and bare, the brook 
becomes only a series of muddy pools. Sometimes 
its bed dries and cracks under the hot sun, and not 
a drop of water can be found in it. 

"What you have seen to-day, little friends, tells 
the story of how soil is being made and carried, 
not only in millions of brook valleys all over the 
earth, but also in the vast river basins. 

" Remember that the finest loam is carried 
farthest, and that it does not settle till the water 
is almost still. Then you will know why the 
highland has coarser soil than the meadow, and 
why the steep slope cannot produce like the more 
level lowland. 

" It is the same everywhere, — in the valley of 
the tiniest rill on our hillside, and in the basin of 
the mighty Amazon. Now I will tell you the 

ry I promised about the Nile at work in the 
desert : 

. " Once more we will visit the high mountains. 
The snow of winter is just melting. Hundreds of 
little streams rush and foam down the steep 
slopes. 

" It is early morning, and a bright star shines 



52 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

above the first gray tints in the east. It is the 
' Dog Star/ and how happy the poor people in 
the valley are to see it, for now the dry banks of 
the Nile will — but I am ahead of my story. 

" Let us watch the foaming streams as they 
flow into the great river. It seems as if its banks 
can hold no more. How the old stream roars as 
it tears over the rapids ! What will become of the 
flood that is sweeping into the valley ? 

u Let us follow ! Now we can see the parched 
banks once more. The sun is nearly overhead. 
How hot and dry the air feels ! 0, if it would 
only rain ! 

" But look ! The river still rises, — higher and 
higher. Now it creeps slowly over its banks ! 
Where will it stop ? What will become of the 
poor people ? 

" See ! they are shouting and dancing for joy ! 
What can it mean ? 

" Wider and wider flows the stream. The dry 
fields are covered. We look for the river. It is 
gone. In its place is a long, wide lake. 

" Still it spreads, — wider and wider. Will it 
never stop ? June passes. The July sun beats 
down. Yet the water rises. August is here, and 
now the whole valley is covered by the wonderful 
stream. 

" At length the water begins to go back. Day 
after day it settles. September comes and goes \ 



HOW SOIL IS MADE AND CARRIED. 53 

and if we were there on this bright October morn- 
ing, we should see only the muddy river, flowing 
in its old bed once more. 

"We look again for the dry banks and the 
desert. They are not there. Everything is 
changed. For miles on both sides, the water has 
covered the valley with rich soil. 

•• Now we know why the people were shouting 
and dancing. The land is ready for their seeds ; 
and soon the golden grain will wave all over the 
valley. There will be food for the next long, dry 
season. 

, " Every year this wonderful river overflows its 
banks when the Dog Star rises in the early morn- 
ing. Then the heavy rainfall around its sources, 
and the melting snow on the mountains, send 
down the flood to spread the soil over the parched 
valley. 

" The slopes supply the food for plants, and the 
water carries it down in that great river just as in 
our little brook. That is why I am so muddy 
to-day. 

" Now good by till to-morrow." 

Just then little Chip ran down, and whispered 
something to the brook. TThat do you think it 
was he said ? Then he scampered away to the 
old oak just as fast as his little legs could carry 
him. 



54 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 



CHAPTER VII. 

FORMS OF WATER. 

" Fill soft and deep, winter snow, 
The sweet azalias' oaken dells ! 
And hide the bank where roses blow, 



And swing the azure bells ! " 



— Whittier. 



" What lias become of my little pond on the 
flat rock ? " chirped the robin, when the happy 
band had gathered for a story next morning. 

" Yesterday I took a bath in it, and now it is 
gone. It could not have run out, for it was in a 
hollow place. Where has it gone ? ' : 

" If you should place a piece of ice on the rock 
in the warm sunshine," began the brooklet, " it 
would soon melt and form a pool. Then the 
water would slowly change to vapor, and spread 
through the air. We could not see it going, but 
the rock would in time be dry. 

" When dew is on the grass, the sunbeams help 
it to float away. " There is vapor everywhere 
about us in the air, but we cannot see it till it 
becomes a cloud or water-dust. 

" Beautiful cloudy forms often float far above 



FOBMS OF WATER. 55 

us. where it is cold. You can see many there 
now. Perhaps that pretty fleecy speck just over- 
head is made in part of your pool that was on the 
rock, little Redbreast." 

" But why does water change to vapor ? " queried 
Bunny. 

" That I cannot answer/' mused the brook. " It 
is not changed by the air, for vapor will form and 
float about where there is no air. We know that 
when water is heated it evaporates ; but we do 
not know why. 

" When vapor is chilled it often changes to rain- 
drops , but no one knows why they form, or why 
they fall. We can name the forces, but we do 
not know why they act. 

" When many drops have f alien, and the soil is 
filled, the sun's heat changes some of them back 
into vapor. This makes the air cooler, for each 
tiny vapor particle always carries a warm sunbeam 
prisoner away with it. When the vapor changes 
again to raindrops, hailstones or snowflakes, it sets 
the sunbeams free." 

" But we often see drops of water on the grass 
and in the spider-webs, early in the morning, when 
it has not been raining. " said Chip. 

" That is true ; and what do you think they 
are, little chipmonk/ 1 asked the brook. 

" They may be tiny raindrops that have lost 
their way in the darkness, and have fallen from 
the clouds/' was Chip's bright answer. 



56 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

" I think the clouds must weep when the sun- 
beams leave them alone in the night, for the tear- 
drops are soon dried when the warm beams return 
in the morning/' said the wild-flower. 

" Perhaps/' chattered Dick, "the little clouds 
themselves, weary with flying all day, fold their 
white wings and come down to sleep in the spiders' 
silken hammocks, where each passing breeze will 
swing them nearer to dreamland." 

" They may be tiny rainbows, just growing," 
added Bunny. " I am sure that I have seen all 
the bright colors in them." 

"They are my pretty cousin dewdrops," bub- 
bled the brook. " When vapor floats against cold 
grass or stones at night, it is changed to dew. 
The little vapor-wings are chilled by the cold 
objects, and they have to wait for the warm sun- 
beams next day before they can fly away. 

" One cold morning last autumn the frozen dew 
looked just like snow in the meadow. 

" ' The Frost looked forth one still, clear night, 
And whispered, " Now, I shall be out of sight, 
So, through the valley, and over the height, 

In silence I'll take my way. 
I will not go on like that blustering train — 
The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain — 
Which make so much bustle and noise in vain, 
But Til be as busy as they." 



FOB MS OF WATER. 57 

" ( Then he went to the mountain and powdered its crest ; 
He climbed up the trees, and their boughs he drest 
With diamonds and pearls, and over the breast 

Of the quivering lake, he spread 
A coat of mail, that it need not fear 
The downward point of many a spear, 
That he hung on its margin, far and near, 

Where a rock could rear its head.' 

— H. F. Gould. 

" 0, you should see Jack Frost in his soft, white 
furs, skimming about over the hills, and through 
the vales ; peeping in at the windows, and cover- 
ing them with silver ferns ; dressing the grass- 
blacles in velvety ice ; hanging ivory lances on the 
trees ; and sprinkling diamond dust in every nook 
and corner, where a clewclrop falls asleep. 

••He even creeps into the dark soil, and changes 
the raindrops there into sharp, icy needles. You 
can often see them, on very cold mornings, bristling 
like quivers of silver darts out of the gardens, 
where they cut the hard ground into fine soft 
soil." 

•* I saw hundreds of glassy threads on our pond, 
one day last winter," said Bunny. " Did Jack 
Frost make them there, also ? " 

" Yes ; and it is a beautiful sight to see him 
weaving a warm icy covering over the ponds when 
winter weather sets in. 

" Just before water is cold enough to freeze, it 
swells and rises to the surface. The ice-coat forms, 



58 BBOOKS AND BBOGK BASINS. 

therefore, at the top instead of on the beds of 
ponds and streams. If the freezing took place at 
the bottom, the ponds would become solid blocks 
of ice ; all the fish would die ; and even the warm 
summer sun could not melt the frozen mass in 
deep water. 

" When the air is very cold and still, you can see 
sharp needles shoot back and forth over our pond, 
making a fine network of icy thread. Soon a 
smooth sheet is woven, which becomes thicker and 
thicker as long as the cold spell lasts. 

" When melting, myriads of stars often appear 
in the ice, like snowflakes with their six silver 
rays meeting in points that glisten like dewdrops." 

"But all ice is not smooth," said Dick. "What 
makes the little rough places on the brook and 
pond ? " 

"When the wind blows, the waves break the 
ice-needles, and rub the pieces against each other, 
so that they freeze in bunches. The ice of rough 
running streams is almost always covered with 
nubbles that look like frozen ripples, or tiny ice- 
waves. 

" There are many beautiful sights here in win- 
ter, but none more charming than our pond with 
its snow-bound shores. It looks like a strip of 
bright blue sky set in a frame of fleecy clouds, and 
hung on the hilly walls of our valley home by a> 
fine brooklet thread." 



FORMS OF WATER. 59 

" I am here every winter," shouted Bunny, joy- 
fully, -and I see all the pretty snow views. I live 
in a deep hole on the side of the hill just under 
the old pine-tree. I dug it there so that the trees 
and bushes would stop the snowslides, and keep 
them from burying my burrow under the soil and 
rocks which they sweep towards the valley. 

" The children often go out there to coast or 
slide. They start on the ridge where the raindrops 
fell last April. Such sport ! The air fairly rings 
with merry shouts, as they spin over the crisp 
snow, singing their pretty song : 

" ( Flakes of snow, with sails so white, 
Drifting clown the wintry skies, 
Tell us where your route begins, 
Say which way your harbor lies ? 

" 'In the clouds, the roomy clouds, 

Arching earth with shadowy dome, 
There's the port from which I sail, 
There is tiny snowflake's home. 

" 'And the cargo that you take 

From those cloudy ports above — 
Is it always meant to bless, 
Sent in anger or in love ? 

" ' Warmth for all the tender roots, 
Warmth for every living thing, 
Water for the rivers 7 flow. 

This the cargo that we bring ! ' " 

— E. A. Rand. 



60 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

" Thank you, Bunny/' bubbled the brook, " that 
is a very pretty song. Here is another that I 
heard long ago, when the beautiful snowflakes 
were sifting down : 

" ' Out of the bosom of the Air, 

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, 

Over the woodlands brown and bare, 

Over the harvest fields forsaken, 

Silent, and soft, and slow 

Descends the snow.' 

— Longfellow. 

"Now, bright friends, you must hasten home, 
or it will be dark before you find your suppers. 
Already the twilight is strewing the sun's pathway 
with roses, and soon the bright flowers will fade in 
the west. 

" Good night ! " 

" Good night ! " 



THE ATMOSPHERE IN MOTION. 61 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE ATMOSPHERE IX MOTION. 

" Ugh ! how cold the air feels this morning ! " 

Dick's pearly teeth chattered as he spoke, and 
the gray hair bristled all along his back. 

Poor little Chip looked like a ball of trembling 
fur, as he squeaked, " I wish we might have only 
warm south winds in our valley." 

" Oho, my pretty grumbler ! ' said Bunny. 
" Was it not the north wind that chilled the 
vapor-wings last April, and sent our early showers 
from the clouds as they came flying northward ? 
But listen ! what is the brooklet singing this 
morning?" 



" < Whichever way the wind doth blow, 
Some heart is glad to have it so ; 
And blow it east or blow it west, 
The wind that blows, that wind is best. 

"'My little bark sails not alone, 
A thousand fleets from every zone 
Are out upon a thousand seas ; 
And what to me were favoring breeze, 
Might dash some other with the shock 
Of doom upon some hidden rock. 



62 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

" ' So whichever way the wind doth blow, 
Some heart is glad to have it so ; 
And blow it east or blow it west, 
The wind that blows, that wind is best.' " 

— Caroline A. Mason. 

So soft and sweet the song, it seemed as if the 
brook o'erflowed with liquid music ; and that each 
dimpled wave, rippling upon the shore, poured its 
rich melody over the listening pebbles, till they 
burst forth in purling echoes. 

The gentle spell was broken by the robin's 
cheery voice, calling, " Come, let us go down and 
ask the waves to tell us why the cold winds blow, 
for I fear that winter is not far off." 

"It will be a long story," bubbled the brook; 
" but you can all help me tell it. 

" Near by where Bunny sits, there is a very queer 
plant. Its leaves look as if they were sewed to- 
gether to form deep, narrow pitchers." 

" 0, you mean the pitcher-plant among the cran- 
berry vines ! Here it is full of water ! " shouted 
nimble Chip, who was first to peep in. 

" Bunny, I wish you would nip off one of the 
coarse grass-stems, so that the top of the stubble 
will be just on a level with the mouth of the 
pitcher," said the brooklet. 

" That is well done. 

" Now, Chip, you may find a piece of dry twig as 
long and wide as the pitcher, — > one that will just 



THE ATMOSPHERE IN MOTION. 63 

iill it. Dick may bring a stone of the same size ; 
Bunny may get me several small pebbles ; Red- 
breast may gather some gray moss from the north 
side of the old pine-tree, and we shall be ready." 

Away they hurried, and soon came back with 
their light loads, wondering what stones, sticks 
and moss had to do with cold north winds. 

" Can you tell me. Chip," babbled the brook, 
-•which is heavier, the piece of wood you have 
brought, or the water in the pitcher ?' : 

That was a poser for the bright chipmonk, and 
set him thinking. 

" And which is lighter, Dick, your stone or the 
water ?" 

Then Dick also put on his thinking-cap. 

" Now it is your turn, Bunny. You brought the 
pebbles and — " 

"I have it ! " broke in Dick. "I can find out 
which is heavier," and he dropped his stone into 
the green pitcher, spilling the water over its sides. 

Ci The stone is heavier than water, for it bends 
the hollow leaf far below the top of the grass-stub- 
ble. Here, Chip, put in your wood and weigh 
it" 

The chipmonk placed the twig in the hollow 
leaf and, to his surprise, it rose above the stubble. 

••Who would have thought that pine is so much 
lighter than water?" chirped the merry fellow. 

" In with the pebbles, Bunny ! ' bubbled the 



64 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS, 

brook, and down went the pitcher below its water- 
mark on the grass-stem. Then came the dry moss, 
and the pretty folded leaf stood nearly upright. 

"Now bring them all here," babbled the silver 
stream. " Throw them into the water, and see 
which will float." 

Down went the rock and pebbles, but the wood 
and moss sailed off like tiny boats. Then they 
weighed dry bark, leaves, feathers, grass, old nails 
and bits of glass, and threw them into the brook- 
let. At length the rabbit stopped. His eyes 
sparkled, and his pretty face was all aglow. 

"What is it, Bunny ?" asked Dick. 

" We need not weigh any more in the pitcher- 
plant. Don't you see that only those things that 
are lighter than water will float ? Wood, moss, 
bark, leaves, grass and feathers do not sink be- 
cause they are not so heavy as water." 

" Then tell me, bright rabbit, which is lighter, 
water or air ?" came the brooklet's soft voice. 

"Air, of course," chattered Bunny. "It floats 
on water. Besides, it doesn't bend our pitcher so 
low as the grass-stubble." 

"Vapor must be lighter than air," added Dick, 
" for the clouds float far above our heads. And I 
know that very warm breath rises in winter time, 
for I have often seen it float away like water-dust." 

" One day," piped the robin, "the dry grass in 
our meadow was afire. When I tried to fly over 



THE ATMOSPHERE IN MOTION. 65 

it, the hot air came rushing up, and almost stifled 
me. It lifted large burning leaves and thick 
smoke higher than the tree-tops. 

" I could fly round and round the meadow, near 
the ground, and could feel cold air rushing towards 
the fire. But every time I flew above the flames, 
my feathers were singed." 

" You have used your bright eyes well, pretty 
Redbreast," rippled the stream, " and what you 
have said is true. Warm air will float on cool air, 
just as a stick will float on waiter, and for the same 
reason. 

" There are often many gases besides air and 
vapor sailing above and around us. Altogether, 
they are called the ' atmosphere.' When heated in 
one spot, the cooler atmosphere round about will 
flow under and float the warmer. We feel it in 
motion, and then call it ' wind.' 

" Thus you see that vapor and other gases are 
moved, not by the air, but with it, — the same 
force moving all by drawing the heavier under the 
lighter. 

" It is the same force that sinks the rock, and 
draws the water under the stick. It causes the 
heavy cold vapor and air to float the light warm 
gases of the same kind. It makes the raindrops 
fall, and the brooklet flow down hill. It is the 
wonderful force called ' gravity,' without which 
everything on the earth's surface would fly off 
into space." 



66 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

" But what heats the atmosphere, and so makes 
it possible for gravity to move it about ? " queried 
Dick. 

" Can't you tell me what it is ? ' asked the 
brooklet. . 

" It may be the sun/' was the squirrel's answer. 
" But why are some parts of our valley warmer 
than others ? The sun shines on all alike, yet the 
sand-pit is much warmer than the meadow. 

" Then there is our great flat rock which is so 
hot when the sun shines, while the old log beside 
it is only warm. At night the sand and rock are 
much cooler than the grass-land and wood. 

" The top of the hill, too, is often cooler than its 
foot ; yet the sun shines on both. And the sand- 
pit is warmer than the top of the nut-tree, 
although the boughs are nearer the sun." 

" I think that the heat must come from the 
earth," sang the robin, " f or the higher I fly, the 
colder I find the air." 

" How can that be?' asked Bunny. "My 
burrow is cool all dav long." 

" But if the sun heats the atmosphere, why is it 
not warmer among the clouds than down here ? 
It is nearer the sun up there," chirped Redbreast. 

" I cannot answer that," replied honest Bunny. 
" But if the heat comes from the earth, why is the 
air cooler when a cloud hides the sun ?" 

" 0, I know ! ' whispered the wild-flower. 



i 
THE ATMOSPHEBE IN MOTION. 67 

" When the sun shines very brightly, our blos- 
soms often send out a cloud of perfume to keep 
the hot rays from wilting them. Perhaps the 
great clouds above our heads also stop a part of 
the sun's heat." 

" Wait a minute ! " cried Chip ; and up he ran 
into a tree that hung over the sand-pit. 

Soon he called from his lofty perch, " It is 
much cooler here than down near the sand. Now 
I can tell you how the atmosphere is heated. 
First, the sun heats the surface of the earth, and 
then the surface warms the atmosphere." 

" I believe that Chip is right," said Dick. " Now 
it is all clear to me. The sun shines on the rock, 
the sand, the trees, the meadow and the pond, 
and they give back the heat to the air. That is 
why it is warmer near the earth's surface than it 
is up among the clouds ; and that is also why the 
valley is cold at night." 

" I knew that you could tell me, if you tried," 
rippled the brook, gleefully. " But there is some- 
thing else that I wish you to learn. Bunny may 
dig a small thin sod out of the meadow, in the 
shadow of the thick willow, where the grass is 
short and dry. While he is gone, Dick may fill 
this pretty shell with cool water from the spring." 

The nimble creatures soon came back with their 
loads, and laid them in the warm sunshine, on the 
sandy beach. Then they brought a cold flat stone, 



68 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

and some cool sand which they dug out of the 
bank, and placed them beside the sod and water. 

" Try to find out which will become warm first/' 
was all the brooklet said. 

In a few minutes Chip called out, " The rock is 
warm already, and the sand is still warmer. The 
sod and water are cold yet." 

" Wait a little longer," bubbled the brook. 

Soon the watchful chipmonk sang out, " The 
grassy side of the sod is quite warm now, and the 
water is not so cold as it was. The sand is hot, 
and the rock is very warm." 

"That will do for the sunlight," rippled the 
little stream. " Now you may bring the stone, 
sod, water and sand to my thick button-bush, and 
place them in its cool shadow. Vse will learn 
which will give off its heat soonest," 

They had not waited long, when the same 
merry chirping voice was heard, telling them that 
the sand was cooling; very fast, and the rock a 
little more slowly. But it was quite a while 
before Chip felt any change in the other two. At 
length he found that the sod was a little cooler 
than the water. Then the brooklet was ready to 
tell them more about how the earth heats the 
atmosphere. 

" Nearly the whole surface of our valley is 
covered with grass, sand, rocks, trees and water, 
upon which the sun shines every pleasant day. 



THE ATMOSPHEBE IN MOTIOy. 69 

You have just found that all parts of this surface 
are not warmed equally fast. The sand and rocks 
heat quickly, while the trees and grass-lands warm 
slowlv. and the water still more so. 

••You know, also, that sand and rocks give off 
their heat sooner than trees, grass or water. 
That is why the air above our sandy field is 
warmer than it is over the pond, when the sun is 
shining. 

" But cool air will flow under and float warm 
air. and so we find a breeze often flowing from our 
pond towards the sandy field in the daytime. 
We call this a : sea-breeze.' 

"At night, long after the sand has given its 
heat to the atmosphere, the water still warms the 
air above it. Then a gentle wind flows from over 
the fields towards the warm pond, and makes a 
'land-breeze.' 

" Now you know why the atmosphere is always 
in motion. The winds are flowing away from cool 
surfaces towards warmer ones." 

"But some winds flow across our valley, over 
the pasture, water and everything else. Even 
the hot sand does not turn them aside," said Dick. 

**Our sand-pit is very small," replied the brook, 
" and it heats but little air. In some places there 
are miles and miles of hot dry surface. The cool 
atmosphere often flows towards them with great 
speed and in large quantity. 



70 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

" Or, if a great deal of vapor rises, it makes the 
atmosphere lighter, and then the dry winds sweep 
in with such force that small heated spots, like our 
pasture and sand-pit, do not stop or bend them 
from their course. It is only when the atmos- 
phere is almost calm that our pond and field can 
set the gentle breezes flowing in our valley. 

" And who has not listened to the many-sound- 
ing winds, sighing in the tall meadow-grasses, 
whistling up the hillside, or moaning on the edge 
of the forest that towers and sways like a dark 
cliff against a background of scudding clouds, and 
along whose base the waving grains seem to break 
like surging billows ? 

" i The wind has a language, I would I could learn ! 
Sometimes 'tis soothing, and sometimes 'tis stern, 

Sometimes it comes like a low sweet song, 
And all things grow calm, as the sound floats along ; 

And the forest is lulled by the dreamy strain, 
And slumber sinks down on the wandering main ; 

And its crystal arms are folded in rest, 
And the tall ship sleeps on its heaving breast.' " 

-— Landon- 



AN EVENING UNDER THE STABS. 71 



CHAPTER IX. 

AN EVENING UNDER THE STARS. 

u l Dear Mother, how pretty 

The moon looks to-night ! 
She was never so cunning before ; 

Her two little horns 

Are so sharp and so bright, 
I hope she'll not grow any more. 

" ' If I were up there 

With you and my friends, 
Fd rock in it nicely, you'd see ; 

Fd sit in the middle 

And hold by both ends, 
Oh, what a bright cradle 'twould be ! 

" ' I would call to the stars 

To keep out of the way, 
Lest we should rock over their toes ; 

And then I would rock 

Till the dawn of the day, 
And see where the pretty moon goes. 

" ' And there would I stay 

In the beautiful skies, 
And through the bright clouds we would roam ; 

We would see the sun set, 

And see the sun rise, 
And on the next rainbow come home.'" 

— Mrs. Follen. 



72 BROOKS AND BBOOK BA8IN8. 

" How happy you are this evening, little brook/' 
called out Bunny, as he sported about in the bright 
moonlight, cropping sweet clover. " What a pretty 
song you were just singing ! ' 

" And why should I not be happy ? — 

"'I am the blue sky's looking-glass, 
I hold the rainbow bars ; 
The moon comes down to visit me, 
And brings the little stars.' " 

— Mrs. M. F. Butts. 

" Cheerily sung!" cried Dick and Chip. "We 
heard your merry voice, and crept out of our nests 
to listen. May we come down and sit by the wild- 
flower while you are singing? ' 

" Br-r-r, br-r-r, better be in bed, br-r-r, br-r-r ! ' 
rattled a deep voice among the tall reeds. 

" Ha, ha ! " bubbled the brook. " That is only 
one of my old green frogs in the marshes. Per- 
haps I woke him with my singing, and he is 
angry with me. But, come along, my frisky 
friends ! If it were only summer now, I would 
send my tiny fire-flies to light your way out of the 
woods. Do you remember, Bunny, how my bright 
messengers used to lead Chip and Dick through 
the forest ?" 

" Yes, I often think of one night when I saw 
them. The two little squirrels came tripping over 
the dry leaves ; four shining bead-eyes went peep- 
ing into every dark corner, while scores of fairy 



AS EVENING UXDER THE STABS. 73 

fire-flies waved and swung their faint flash-lights 
on every side to frighten the shadows back into 
the dense woods ; and all the while the brook kept 
singing : 

" • When softly mother earth is dreaming — sleeping, 
I question whence the fire-flies come ; 
The Moon says, " Tears they are from stars that, weeping, 
Have lost the path that leads them home.'" 

— Eugene Ashtox. 

" But here are our friends waiting for your story, 
kind brooklet." 

•• If Redbreast were only here, we should have 
our whole party/' chirped the thoughtful chip- 
monk. " AY ait a moment, and I will call her." 

Away scampered the lively creature, and soon 
we heard him calling, " Chip, chip, che-chip ! ' 
under the apple-tree. 

" Chirp, chirp ! ' came the shrill answer from 
among the branches, and clown flew the robin. 

••Why. Chip! you are out very late," piped the 
ever-cheerful little bird. 

•• The brooklet is to tell us a storv about the 
stars, and I thought you would like to hear it. So 
I ran over to call you." 

" You are very kind, and I hope I may be able 
to repay you in some way." 

•• You have already clone so, Redbreast," said 
Chip. "Have you not sung for me from morning 
till evening, all summer ? And once, when the 



74 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

gray cat came creeping up behind the stone-wall 7 
did you not chirp so loud that I looked over and 
saw him just in time to dodge his sharp claws ? 

" But here we are by the brookside. I never 
heard the little stream ripple so sweetly before. 
Let us sit near by where the pretty waves frisk 
and frolic among the smooth pebbles, and listen to 
its story, for it is just beginning." 

" When you went home to-day, the long shadows 
were beginning to creep into our valley. Soon the 
Prince of Light sank behind the low hills. He 
must have been weary with his long journey, for 
we saw him lie down on a bank of bright flowers 
and fall asleep, while o'er his couch the evening 
star kept watch. 

" i O'er me, like a regal tent, 

Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent ; 
Purple-curtained, fringed with gold, 
Looped in many a wind-swung fold/ 



Whittier. 



" The silvery waves that had played all day 
were fast asleep. Even the little clouds had folded 
themselves in their gray-tinted bankets, and seemed 
to float in dreamland. 

" One by one, the pretty stars brought out their 
flickering torches, and began their silent march 
across the sky. 

"Now the night is filled with glory, and we must 
not spend it in dreaming. Let us be up, looking 



AN EVENING UNDER THE STABS. 75 

at its bright moving pictures, and reading its 
wonderful stories." 

" What ! is the sky a story-book ? ' : asked Chip, 
his eager eyes glowing like fire-flies. 

" Yes. and a picture-book as well," sang a moon- 
lit wave. %; Come a little nearer, and I will show 
you the beautiful forms, and tell you one or two 
of its charming stories. 

" Every little squirrel can find the Great Dipper 
which is a part of the Great Bear." 

" There it is, low in the northwest," said Dick; 
" and I know another star, also. The two bright 
twinkling dots in this Dipper, farthest from its 
handle, are called ' pointers,' because a line drawn 
through them points nearly towards the pole or 
north star. It is in the end of the Little Dipper 
handle, or the tip of the Little Bear's tail." 

" How came two bears to be among the stars ? ' 
asked timid Bunny, dropping his head as if to run 
and hide in his burrow. 

" It is an old, old story," began the brooklet. 
" It was told to little girls and boys who lived 
many years ago, in a land far away towards the 
rising sun. 

"There, on a high mountain — so the story 
runs — dwelt a powerful king named Jupiter, and 
his beautiful queen, Juno. In the dense forest, far 
below, lived a lovely princess who spent her time 
in hunting. 



76 BBOOKS AXD BROOK BASINS. 

"Juno was jealous of her great beauty, and 
changed her into a bear. Down she fell upon the 
ground. Her soft white hands and feet became 
great paws, while her fingers grew into sharp claws. 
When she tried to speak, only a savage growl 
rolled through her fierce jaws. 

" All night long she slept in the dark woods, yet 
she did not feel cold, for a heavy coat of long hair 
had grown all over her body. 

" One day she met her only son hunting. 0, 
how happy she felt, as she turned to embrace him. 
4 He will surely know his mother/ thought she. 

" But alas ! he saw only a savage bear, and as it 
rushed towards him, he raised his hunting-spear to 
kill it. Then Jupiter, filled with pity, changed 
the son into a little bear ; and, taking them both 
into the sky, chained them near the den of the 
north star. 

" How angry Juno was to see them shining 
there. She begged old Ocean not to let them 
bathe in its cool water. So there they prowl, the 
Great and Little Bear, round and round the pole 
star, yet never clip below the horizon that we see 
from our valley." 

" What a pretty story ! " cried Chip, sporting 
about in glee. Please tell us just one more. We 
never knew before you came, little raindrops, how 
many beautiful things there were around us." 

"Let me see. What shall it be?" mused the 



AN EVENING UNDER THE STARS. 11 

dimpled stream. " 0, yes ! there is a very pretty 
one in the northeastern sky. 1 

" Start with me from the handle of the Great 
Dipper, and travel straight through the north star 
till we reach five bright stars that make a W in 
the edge of the Milky Way. These are in the 
group called ' Cassiopeia.' 2 It is about as far from 
the pole star on one side as the Great Dipper is on 
the other. 

" Farther clown in the sky, in the same straight 
line, beneath the W, there is a row r of shining stars, 
just to the left of a large starry square. The 
bright row is Andromeda, 3 a beautiful princess. 
The square is a part of the great winged horse, 
Pegasus. 4 

" Now set out once more from the W, and move 
down the Milky Way towards the northeast. 
About half-way to the horizon, you will see three 
or more bright stars, pointing downwards, with a 

1 These star-clusters may be seen in the positions described, as 
follows : 

Sept. 



1. — 9.20 p. 


m. 


Oct. 


1. — 7.20 p.m. 


6. — 9.00 






6. — 7.00 


11. — 8.40 






11. — 6.40 


16. _ 8.20 






16. — 6.20 


21. — 8.00 






21. — 6.00 


26. — 7.40 









They are also visible in other parts of the sky. but in the same 
relative positions, nearly every night in the year. The observer will, 
of course, find it necessary to rise before the sun to see them during 
the spring time, but the sight will well repay him. 

2 Pronounced : Cas-si-o-pe'i-a. 3 An-droin'e-da. 4 Peg'a-sus. 



78 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

large twinkling dot to the right. This group is 
Perseus, 1 a noble prince. 

" As far above the W as Perseus is below it, and 
reaching in towards the pole star, there is a faint 
cluster that shows where old King Cepheus 2 sits 
upon his throne." 

"What a bright star nearly overhead !' ' piped 
the robin. " It is the brightest that twinkles in 
the whole sky." 

"'And what a pretty cross just above us in the 
Milky Way ! " chirped the frisky chipmonk. 

" Do you remember the dark night when the 
raindrops set out on their journey?" rippled the 
hrook. " ' Out of the east came beautiful Vega, 
brightest of all the host. Near it floated the grace- 
ful Swan among the starry drops that glisten in 
the Milky Way.' " 

" Now I know ! " sang Redbreast. " The bril- 
liant star above us is Vega, and the cross is a part 
of the Swan. I looked for them the evening after 
you told us the first story, but I found them just 
rising in the northeast." 

" And if you will look in the same place next 
spring, you will see them there again as soon as 
the sun goes down," bubbled the silver stream. 
"But Vega and the Swan are not in the story I 
am to tell, and so we will go back to Perseus and 
the Princess. 

1 Pronounced : Per'seus (su^e). 2 Qe'pheus (fuce). 




EXPLANATION OF CHART. 
(X., 8., E., W- = North, South, East. West.) 

To find the stars above any point of the horizon, face that part of the 
sky. turn the above circle till the corresponding point of the compass on the 
chart is at the bottom of the page. Then look for the groups in the lower 
half of the circle. 

For example, to find the star-groups above the northern horizon, the 
observer should face the north and hold the above chart vertically, with 
the X. at the bottom of the page. The lower half of the circle will then show 
the relative positions of the northern constellations. 







KEY TO CHART. 




Groups. 




Bright Stars. 


a = Andromeda. 


h 


= Flying Horse. 


I) = Thuban. 


b = Little Bear. 


K 


= King Cepheus. 


m = Perseus' Shield 


B = Great Bear. 


P 


= Perseus. 


a = North Star. 


c = Northern Crown. 


Q 


= Cassiopeia. 


<< = The Kid. 


d = Great Dipper. 


ft 


= >wan. 


V = Vega. 


e — Eagle. 









AN EVENING UNDER THE STABS. 79 

" Manv years ago, near the sacred river that 
winds like an endless serpent across an almost 
boundless desert, ruled a wise king, named Cepheus. 

" One time, his vain young queen, Cassiopeia, 
boasted that she was as beautiful as the graceful 
Nymphs that sported in the waves. Then the 
angry Water-Sprites sent a fierce storm to destroy 
her land ; and with it came a horrible sea-monster 
that killed many poor people. 

•••There is but one way to save your homes/ 
the Nymphs said to the king. i Chain your beau- 
tiful daughter, Andromeda, to a lonely rock on the 
shore, and when our frightful monster has de- 
voured her, he will leave your coasts in peace.' 

•• Then was the good king very sad, for he loved 
his daughter dearly. But his dying people begged 
him to save them, and at length he yielded. The 
lovely princess was chained to a great cliff over- 
hanging the sea, while her father and mother sat 
weeping on the shore. 

•• Just then a dark speck was seen far off in the 
sky. Nearer and nearer it came, till, with the 
speed of an eagle, clown flew the noble prince, Per- 
seus, son of Jupiter. Some claim that he rode on 
living Pegasus, while others say he came on 
winged sandals. On his left arm he carried a 
magic shield that would turn to stone anv creature 
that looked upon it. 

" Scarcely had the story of grief been told, when 



80 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

across the sea came the hungry monster, bellowing 
and splashing. Straight for the rock he swam, 
where lay the helpless princess. With glaring 
eyes and open mouth, he dashed forward, to seize 
his prey. 

" But what was that ? Like the flash of a 
meteor, brave Perseus darted through the air, and 
plunged his sword into the great scaly back. 
Then, as the angry beast turned to meet his foe, 
the brave prince held out his shield, while turning 
away his own eyes, and where the giant creature 
swam, there rose a great ledge from the sea. The 
trusty shield had changed him into stone. 

" Of course the noble prince wedded the fair 
Andromeda, and his proud father carried them all 
off to live forever in the starry sky. 

" But the w r rathf ul Nymphs had Cassiopeia 
placed so near the pole star, that one half the 
night she hangs with her head down to teach her 
to be humble." 

As the brooklet ended its story, little Chip 
looked up with surprise into the sky, and cried, 
" The Great Bear seems to be moving ! When 
Dick first pointed it out, it was in the northwest. 
Now it is in the north, under the pole star. Why! 
I believe every spot in the sky is moving ; for 
Cassiopeia is just overhead, and the Swan is flying 
low in the west. I hope the pretty stars will not 
leave us forever." 



AN EVENING UNDER THE STARS. 81 

" Never fear ! " laughed the brook. " You need 
to sleep now. But when the bright golden butter- 
cups have faded along the dusty roadside of the 
Milky Way, come back, and I will tell you why 
the sun, moon and stars seem to move across the 
sky." 



82 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 



CHAPTER X. 

DAYS, NIGHTS AND SEASONS. 

Daybreak. 

U( A wind came up out of the sea, 

And said, "0 mists, make room for me, 

"'It hailed the ships, and cried, "Sail on, 
Ye mariners ; the night is gone ! " 

" ' And hurried landward far away, 
Crying, " Awake ! it is the day." 

" ' It said unto the forest, " Shout ! 
Hang all your leafy banners out ! " 

" ' It touched the wood-bird's folded wing, 
And said, " bird, awake and sing." 

" i And o'er the farms, " chanticleer, 
Your clarion blow ; the day is near." 



)7 



<( i 



It whispered to the fields of corn, 

" Bow down, and hail the coming morn." 



i It shouted through the belfry tower, 
Awake, bell ! proclaim the hour." 



u 



a i 



It crossed the churchyard with a sigh, 
And said, " Not yet ! in quiet lie." ? " 

— Longfellow. 



BAYS, SIGHTS AS I) SEASOSS. 83 

Thus sang the brooklet, as the pretty stars, like 
shining gold-fish, sank deeper and deeper into the 
pale-blue sea of the sky. 

" I wish mv little friends were here to see the 
break of day." it added, and its purling ripples 
seemed to linger near the sleeping pebbles, as if 
searching for Bunny and his cheerful companions. 

•• Here we are ! ' rang a merry chorus, and 
down trooped our happy band, with nimble Chip 
running before. 

•• Just in time ! * rippled the brooklet softly : 
" for I am to show you why the days, nights and 
seasons visit our valley, and here is a day close 
at hand. 

"First, let me tell you that the earth is a large 
ball, rounder than the button-balls on the bush that 
hangs over the water: rounder than an apple. — 
yes. rounder than the base-ball with which the 
boys sometimes play in our valley ; and yet it is 
not perfectly round. 

" This great ball rolls over and over in space 
just like the soap-bubbles which the little girl 
blew here yesterday." 

" Does the earth float about in the air just as 
the soap-bubbles did?" asked Dick. ■ 

" no ! ' babbled the brook. " The air does 
not hold the earth in its place ; but land, water 
and air form this great ball that turns in space. 
while the sun shines in nearly the same place in 
the sky both day and night." 



84 BROOKS AND BBOOK BASINS. 

That was too much for little Chip, for had he 
not seen the sun move across the sky every pleas- 
ant day for many months ? At last the bright 
creature broke forth. " Then why do we not see 
the sun at night as well as in the daytime ?" 

" I will show you, my cheery friend, if you will 
help me. We will use this large wind-mill which 
the boys made here last summer. See it turning 
very slowly in the morning breeze. The top is 
rolling towards the sun, and the bottom away 
from the burning ball which shines high above 
the horizon. 

•* Now, Chip, I want you to climb to the very 
top of the wind-mill, face the sun in the east, and 
swing slowly round with the great wooden wheel. 
You can then tell us how the sun seems to move." 

u There it is ! ' chirped the cunning creature, as 
he climbed nimbly to the topmost point of the 
wind-mill. " The bright sun is just in front of 
me. see it g;o ! now it is over my head and 
shines on my back. Now it is behind me. There 
it goes out of sight behind the wind-mill. I never 
saw it travel so fast before. It will be night 
before I can reach home " ; and the little fellow 
was about to scamper down and away, when he 
heard a merry laugh below him. 

"Why, Chip ! the sun is in just the same place," 
chirped Redbreast. " Wait a minute, and you will 
see it again." 



DAYS, NIGHTS AND SEASONS. 85 

" There it comes ! ' shouted the chipmonk. 
"It is rising in front of me once more." 

So over and over the great wheel swung, with 
Chip clinging to its long arm, while the sun 
seemed to him to rise and set at every turning. 
First his back and then his legs were towards the 
flaming ball, as he was rolled into the sunlight, 
then back into the shade. 

"If the wheel were very, very large," chirped 
the robin, " it would be day on the light side, and 
night in the shadow." 

" Yes ; and morning as he swings into the sun- 
light, and evening as he sinks into the shadow," 
added Dick. 

The little stream seemed to bubble with joy as 
it listened to the chatter. Then it told its little 
friends how the great ball on which we live turns 
or rotates like the wind-mill ; how it rolls us into 
darkness every evening, and back to the light 
every morning, thus causing days and nights in 
the valley. 

"But you must not think that the whole sky 
above us is dark at night," prattled the stream. 
" Try to find some shadows on my beach, and I 
will then tell you about the one cast by the great 
earth." 

"Here is one now, behind this rock," piped 
Redbreast. "It looks like the long cones hanging 
on the pine-trees." 



86 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

" Yes ; and as the earth is much smaller than the 
sun, its shadow runs to a point far above our heads 
at midnight/' added the brooklet. " Night is a 
long, cone-shaped shadow cast by the earth far 
into space. 

" Once in a while, the moon sails into this 
shadow, and its round face is no longer lighted 
by the sun. Then it sails out again, and the 
eclipse is over. 

" So round and round goes our valley on the 
great earth, swinging us into the light of day, and 
then into the shadow of night." 

" But why do we not fall from the earth at 
night when our heads hang down ? ' queried 
Bunny. " I should think that all the water would 
spill out of our pond, too." 

The pretty stream was puzzled for a moment. 
How could it explain to the rabbit that its head 
did not hang down ? But soon its silvery voice 
rang out, " There is a small dark stone at the foot 
of the ledge, near the sweet acorn tree. I saw it 
one day as I trickled down the steep slope. If 
you will bring it to me, Bunny, I w T ill show you 
why w T e do not fall from the earth at night." 

" Here it is ! ' called out the rabbit from the 
ledge. " There is a small nail clinging to it." 

" What a queer rock ! ' cried Dick. " It holds 
the nail so firmly that I cannot shake it off." 

"It is a piece of iron ore that acts like a mag- 



DATS, NIGHTS AND SEASONS. 87 

net/' began the brook. "It is called a ''load- 
stone/ and draws to itself small pieces of steel 
and iron. Now if you will stand the little nail on 
its flat end, and turn the stone round and round, 
you will see that the nail will always point to the 
centre of the magnet. Over or under, right or 
left, the nail still stands upright, away from the 
loadstone. 

" The earth acts like a great magnet also, and 
draws towards itself not only iron and steel, but 
also every other substance. Whether our heads 
or our feet are nearer the sun, we are drawn 
towards a point near the centre of the earth. 
' Up ' is not towards the sun, or any one place in 
the sky. Up means away from the centre of the 
earth, and down means towards the centre. 

" At night, the trees still stand upright because 
they point away from the earth, even though the 
trees half-way round the great ball grow in the 
opposite direction. 

" And when we walk at midnight, our heads 
do not hang down, for down is towards the earth." 

" But why does not the sun rise in the same 
place day after clay?" piped robin. "Sometimes 
we see it come over the hill, then over the narrow 
gully, and even over the treetops when the snow 
is on the ground." 

" And it does not always set in the same place/' 
squeaked Chip. 



88 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

" Nor rise so high in the sky in winter/' added 
Bunny. " In summer the noon shadows are very 
short, and the bright ball is nearly overhead/' 

" I will tell you why it rises farther north, and 
travels in a higher arch in summer time/' began 
the brook. 

" Last night we saw a bright star just in line 
with the top of our tallest pine. Can you^ recall 
its name ? " 

" Pole star ! " cried Chip. 

" North star ! " sang Redbreast. 

" Both are right. It has several names, and is 
the most useful to us of all the stars. It is nearly 
due north, and as it does not rise and set, it can 
be seen every clear evening. If it were night 
now, we could see it shining there just above the 
treetop. 

" A point on earth nearly under that star is called 
the ' north pole.' If we could run a line from the 
north star, through the centre of the earth to the 
opposite side, it would come out near a point 
called the ' south pole.' 

"Let us call the place on this plump round 
apple, w^here the stem grows, the north pole, and 
the blossom end, the south pole. Just midway 
between the poles, Dick may scratch a line round 
the apple. The north pole is in the centre of the 
northern half, and the south pole in the centre of 
the southern. 



DAYS, NIGHTS AND SEASONS. 89 

" That dark spot on the apple, more than one- 
third of the distance from the equator towards the 
north pole, shows you where our valley is on the 
earth. 

" Now Robin may peck into the blossom end, 
— the south pole, — and hold the apple on his 
bill so that the stem end — the north pole — will 
point over the top of the pine towards the north 
star. 

" Chip may sit on that rock about a foot behind 
Robin, just on a level with the apple, and watch 
closely. What part of the apple can you see, little 
chipmonk? " 

" There is the south pole, but I cannot see the 
north," said Chip. 

" If your head were the sun, which half of the 
apple would be lighter ? " asked the brook. 

" The southern," was the quick reply; "for I 
can see more of it." 

" Now Robin may move slowly round the little 
squirrel, towards the west, still keeping the apple- 
stem pointed over the pine, and Chip may tell us 
when he can see the north pole," bubbled the 
stream. 

" Hold ! there it is ! " came the shrill chirp, 
when Redbreast had hopped one-quarter way 
round. " Now I can see both poles. If my head 
were the sun, it would light north and south 
alike." 



90 BBOOKS AND BBOOK BASINS. 

" Look again, Chip, while Robin moves round 
another quarter. Now what parts can you see?' : 
asked the brook. 

" The south pole is not in sight ; but I can see 
far beyond the north pole, and more than half the 
northern part of the apple." 

" Hop round a little farther, Redbreast, and 
Chip will call out when he can see both poles 
again," rippled the brooklet. 

" There they are ! ' sang the bright-eyed squir- 
rel, as the robin reached the third quarter. 

Then the willing little bird moved along to the 
starting-point, and again the north pole sank out 
of sight, still pointing over the tall pines. 

" We will now speak of the apple as if it were 
the earth, and we will call the line which Dick 
scratched upon it 'the equator.' 1 said the brook. 
" Chip may tell us whether the part of the apple 
nearest him is north or south of the equator." 

" South," was the prompt answer. 

" If your head were the hot sun, would the 
north or south part of the earth receive more 
heat ? " bubbled the stream. 

" It would be much warmer south of the equator 
than north," said Chip. 

" Yes," added the brook ; " in the southern half 
warm summer is just beginning, while on the 
northern side cold winter is setting in. 

" Now Robin may hop round once more, till Chip 



BAYS. SIGHTS AND SEASONS. 91 

can see both poles again. All ! keep the north 
pole over the old pine, little Redbreast. There ! 
on which side of the equator do the warmest rays 
shine now ? 9i 

" Both sides of the equator are heated alike," 
said Chip. " The sun is just over the middle 
line." 

" Then which half of the earth is warmer, 
Bunny, — the northern or southern?' came the 
query, and a roguish ripple rolled in among the 
smooth pebbles. 

" One side must be just as warm as the other," 
said the rabbit, "for the sun shines on both alike." 

"That cannot be," cried Dick. "It has just been 
summer south of the equator, and winter north. I 
think it would still be warmer in the south." 

"You are right, Dick. I did not think of that," 
added Bunny. " It is like morning and evening. 
When the sun is setting, it is leaving a surface 
that has been warmed all day. "When it is rising, 
it must first heat the earth before its warmth is 
given off into the air. Thus we find the dawn 
much cooler than the eve, although the sun's rays 
are just as slanting. 

" Spring is the dawn of the seasons, and autumn 
the eve ; winter is the night, and summer the mid- 
day." 

" Well said, Bunny," babbled the waves ; "but let 
us look again to Robin's earth. When it reaches 



92 B BOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

this point, and the sun shines above the equator, 
two seasons begin, and two end. In the north, 
cold winter goes out, and — " 

" Warm spring comes in ! ' sang the merry 
voices. 

" But how is it south of the equator, my little 
friends ?" asked the brooklet. 

" Autumn must follow summer there, for it does 
here," said Redbreast, as well as he could with 
the apple on his bill. 

" That is true, pretty bird," sang the stream. 
" And now you may move round another quarter." 

" 0, I know that it must be summer in the 
north, for I can see only a little of the part south 
of the equator," called out Chip. Then he added, 
" It must be winter in the southern half, because 
the surface is turned so far away from me. The 
lighted place in the south is so narrow that the 
daylight cannot last so long as it does in the 
north." 

"That must be the reason why our days are so 
much longer in summer; and the longer the day, 
the warmer it must be," said thoughtful Dick. 
" But there goes Robin again." 

" Hold ! " cried Chip. " The sun is over the 
equator again, and shines on both sides alike. It 
must be spring on one side, and autumn on the 
other." 

"It is autumn in the north," said Bunny, "for 



DATS, NIGHTS AND SEASONS. 93 

summer is just over. And it must be spring in 
the south." 

" Here we are back to our winter in the north ! ' 
shouted Chip, as the robin hopped along to the 
starting-point, and dropped the apple from its 
tired bill. " It has taken four whole seasons for 
the earth to move round the sun. How slowly it 
must go ! " 

"0 no!" rippled the brook. "It moves very 
rapidly. Our valley is about a quarter of a mile 
in length. Listen, while I count as fast as I can, — 
one, two, three, four, five, six, — and the earth has 
moved a hundred times the length of our valley 
while I was counting. 

" Take this apple, please, Dick, and drop it from 
the bough that hangs over the water. Watch it ! 
Let it go ! " 

" 0, how swift ! " chirped the robin. 

"The apple fell only about sixteen feet/' said 
the brook ; " but while it was in the air, the earth 
whizzed along more than sixteen miles — sixty- 
four times the length of our valley — on its way 
around the sun. And every time it revolves, or 
goes round, we have our four seasons. 

" As we look at the sun clay after clay for a 
vear. it seems to rise higher and higher in the skv 
at noon for a while, and then to move in a lower 
and lower path. When it reaches its highest 
arch, our northern summer begins, while its 



94 BROOKS AND BROOK BASIN 8. 

lowest path marks the beginning of our win- 
ter. 

" Its middle arch, as it seems to travel higher 
and higher, opens the spring, while the same line, 
on its southward journey, brings in the autumn. 

" Now, my little companions, you know why the 
days, nights and seasons visit our home, and to- 
morrow I will tell you how they help to cover our 
valley with life." 



PLAST LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 95 



CHAPTER XI. 

PLANT LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 

Was there ever such a morning before ? 

Far and wide, the frost had pitched its snowy 
tents of woven dew. Calm, cool and clear the 
air, as if the breath of night had fallen asleep in 
the cradle of the vallev. 

The limpid water of brook and pond slumbered 
with the soft blue sky above ; and in their dreams 
there seemed to float the same pale castles of fairy 
mist. 

Now and then, bright-tinted leaves fell fluttering 
from the swamp-maples, like feathers from the 
rosy wings of dawn. With the changing season, 
the foliage had ended its work, and decked itself 
in gayest colors. 

" Autumn's earliest touch had given 

To the woods below, 
Hues of beauty, such as heaven 

Lendeth to its bow ; 
And the soft breeze from the west 
Scarcely broke their dreamy rest/' 

— Whittier. 

Such was the morning: when our merrv band 
gathered by the brookside to hear the story of Life 
in the Valley, — 



96 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

"Of the wild-bees' morning chase, 
Of the wild-flowers' time and place, 

Flight of fowl and habitude 

Of the tenants of the wood ; 
How the tortoise bears his shell, 
How the wbodchuck digs his cell, 
And the ground-mole sinks his well ; 

How the robin feeds her young, 

How the oriole's nest is hung ; 

Where the whitest lilies blow, 

Where the freshest berries grow, 
Where the ground-nut trails its vine, 
Where the wood-grape's clusters shine." 

— Whittier. 

" Can you tell me where the little yellow cow- 
slips grew last May, Bunny ? " asked the brooklet. 

" 0, yes ! and how pretty they looked in the wet 
meadow. I did not see any on the dry hillside. 
They were all here." 

" I saw them, too/' piped a cheery voice; " and 
at first I thought they were buttercups. They 
grew near the white violet beds." 

" I know another flower here in the wet soil," 
chirped the little squirrel. " It has dark-red her- 
ries. 

" Cranberries ! ' shouted Bunny. " Here are 
some of them. Ugh ! how sour they are." 

" There are the big brown cat-tails, also, stand- 
ing on the marshy edge of the pond," said Dick. 
" They always grow in w r et places." 

" And so do the early pussy willows," added Red- 



PLAST LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 97 

breast. " I look for them just as soon as J fly 
north in the spring time." 

" Then there is our jovial friend, Jack-in-the- 
pulpit, clown where the frog-choir sings/' cried 
Dick ; u and the water-cresses and graceful blue- 
flags." 

" You must not forget my pure water-lilies," 
rippled the brook. " They float on the still water 
of my pond, and send their roots deep into the 
mud below. But let us look to another part of 
our valley, and see what plants grow on the steep 
hillside." 

" There are not many pretty flowers on the 
abrupt slopes/' said Dick. " The loam is easily 
washed into the valley, and the water flows so 
swiftly there that only a little sinks into the 
ground. The soil is coarser and drier than in the 
level meadow. A few bushes and tufts of coarse 
grass cling to the steep side, but they are not very 
pretty. 

" Last May a few clusters of wild columbine 
grew among the rocks, and nodded their pretty 
scarlet and yellow blossoms. They looked so 
lovely, I thought they must have strolled away 
from home and lost their way." 

" Bunny can tell us where to find the sweet 
clover," chirped a merry voice. 

•* yes, I know where all the blossoms grow. — 
the pussy, hop, red and white. The pretty white 



98 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

heads wave in the pasture. A little red clover 
grows there also, but most of it is in the rich 
meadow. I wish it would stay all winter. When 
the snow is deep and hard, I cannot always find 
tender branches, and I am often huhgry for days 
and days." 

" If you could only eat nuts, Bunny, you could 
come and live with Chip and me," said kind-hearted 
Dick. " Last winter I saw a great dog chase you, 
hut you ran into your burrow just in time." 

" Yes, Dick, he nearly caught me. It was a 
cold, frosty day. The ground was covered with 
snow. I was very hungry, and went out to nip a 
few buds and a little bark. 

"Just as I began to nibble a tender twig, I was 
almost stunned by a loud noise. I felt a sharp 
pain, and tried to hop away. But a bullet had 
broken my leg, and I could only hobble slowly 
along. 

" Then I heard a savage dog bark close behind me. 
O, how frightened I was. The hard crust cut my 
poor bleeding leg, and as I dragged it along, it left 
a red stain on the white snow. 

"At length I reached my lonely home. I was 
still very hungry, but I did not think of that. 
How my poor leg did ache ! 

•* Long dark clays and nights, I lay there all alone 
in the cold ground, while my leg grew stronger. 
Then I crept out to gnaw a little bark. 



PLANT LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 99 

" But when I saw the April showers, and heard 
the early blue-birds sing, — when all nature seemed 
to waken from its long winter sleep, how happy 

I felt : 

1 " i Xature's voice is fraught with gladness, 
E'en its showers can hope impart, 
And each fading cloud of sadness 
Leave a rainbow in the heart. 

" i Is it from the white cloud flying, 
Or the blue-bird, sweetly singing 
In the branches, gently sighing, 
Or the distant herd-bell ringing ? 

" ( Is it in the golden sunbeam, 

Streaming through the pines above, 
Or the brooklet's silver thread-stream, 
Comes the gentle voice of love ? 

" ' As when cool, refreshing showers 

Bless the earth with glad surprises, 
Like the fragrance of its flowers, 
Hope from nature sweetly rises 



— A. E. F. 



"When Bunny ended his story, the little flower 
was weeping, and Dick turned away his bright 
eyes, to hide the big round tears that were stealing 
down his cheeks. 

*• Poor Bunnv ! " was all he said. 

Even the brooklet seemed to murmur more sadly 
as it went on with its story. 

" Do you know any means by which plants or 
their seeds are carried from place to place, Dick ? ' 



100 BROOKS AJSfD BROOK BASINS. 

" I often find little quick-grass branches creeping 
through the soil, and sprouting into coarse green 
blades above. Sometimes I have seen branches go 
floating by in the stream, bearing pretty mosses 
with them to the sea. 

" And who has not seen the tufts of thistle- 
down and dandelion carrying their tiny cargoes of 
seeds wherever the winds might waft them ? ' 

" And some seeds, such as those that grow 
under the scales of our pine cones, float aw^ay in 
the brook," added Chip. 

" And some are carried about by birds," piped 
the robin. 

" Little animals, like field-mice, often take corn 
from the gardens and hide it in their nests. And 
you and I, Chip, carry away nuts, acorns and 
grasses," said Dick. 

" In these and many other ways, plants and 
seeds are carried about," babbled the brook, " and 
if they reach proper soil, they spring up and live. 
But there are bounds beyond which they cannot 
grow. When the quick-grass reaches a pond or 
ledge, its branches must turn aside or die. If the 
tufts of the dandelion alight on the hot sand, their 
germs never waken to take root. 

" The seeds of marsh plants may be carried in 
many ways to the hilltops, but there they will die. 
By dropping its seeds from its scaly cones a pine 
may in time start a growth of little trees all over 



PLANT LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 101 

the upper slopes of a valley ; but the tiny germs 
will only rot in a cranberry bog, or wither away 
on a sanely field. 

" Many kinds of seeds — yes, and of plants — are 
eaten by animals. The leaves of an apple-tree 
often feed swarms of caterpillars, while its fallen 
fruit becomes the home of worms. Millions of 
tiny seeds of the common plantain are gathered 
yearly by sparrows and other small birds. 

" In gardens, the tomato-worm and potato-bug 
destroy countless plants; and what shall we say 
of you, Redbreast ? and of you, Bunny, and Dick, 
and Chip ? How many seeds do you use for food 
each year, and so keep plants from spreading 
more ? 

" Flowers cannot live in every place where their 
seeds are sown, but only where the soil, heat and 
moisture will nourish them into growth. The lily 
needs much water, the pine but little. Meadow- 
grass will thrive only in rich soil, while thistles 
will spring up in rocky places. Clover holds its 
pretty head up to the sunlight, while many mosses 
and evergreen vines creep away into dark, clamp 
woods. 

" That is why our valley has plants of various 
kinds in its different parts, — here the meadow- 
grass, there the cranberry ; here the water-cress. 
there the wild columbine; here the white violet, 
there the blue ; here the willow, there the oak. 



102 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

Each in its proper place outgrows the rest, yet 
cannot go beyond the bounds which nature has set 
in the soil. 

"Every part of our valley helps to make the 
flowers grow in every other part. The hillsides 
give their loam to the valley, and their water to 
its soil and streams. During the clay, vapor rises 
from the water, and at night forms drops of clew 
for the thirsty flowers on the hillside whence it 
came. 

" But if it were not for the fine soil of the valley, 
the streams would soon run dry after a rainfall. 
The very loam sent down by the hills holds back 
the water for days and weeks, giving it to the 
brooks very slowly. Then as clew, rain or snow, 
it returns to the slopes, and thus the rich land in 
the valley repays the gift of the hillsides." 

" But what has the sandy field to do with the 
life in other parts of our basin ? ' asked Bunny, 
with a puzzled look. 

" Do you not recall how the hot sand sets the 
atmosphere in motion, and how the winds supply 
rain to the slopes?' 1 asked the brooklet. "Then, 
too, warm air often flows from our tiny ' desert * 
out over the cool meadow, and gives a breath of 
summer to its flowers. 

"' Desert,' did I call it? Some say that deserts 
are dead, — that they support no life. But there 
are no such places on earth. There are vast fields 



PLANT LIFE IN THE VALLEY. 103 

of sand or parched soil where plants cannot grow. 
But these same heated tracts help to send warmth 
and moisture to other lands, just as the sandy field 
does in our valley. 

" They help to cover the earth with life, but do 
not make gardens of their own at home. Like 
dingy cow-birds, they lay their eggs in the nests 
of others. 

" Thus you see that even our sandy field is very 
useful, and helps to clothe the valley with plants. 

" Then there is our shady grove where the snow 
slowly melts, and feeds the rills long after the open 
fields are bare and dry. Beneath its trees, the 
leafy mould gives off its water even after the 
meadow loam is empty. 

"And when it rains, only a little more than one- 
half the drops fall upon the surface beneath its 
branches. Some are taken into the leaves, and 
many are carried along the cracks and seams in 
the bark, down among the roots. 

- Most of the forest rains find their way into 
the soil, instead of forming surface rills. In this 
way the streams are fed by springs during long, 
dry seasons, and do not become rushing torrents 
after each heavy rainfall. 

" Hillsides and valleys, water and wooded soil, 
fertile slopes and sandy fields, — all are parts of 
one beautiful whole, and that is our valley home." 



104 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 



CHAPTER XII. 

ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BROOKSIDE. 

" If you were a bird, Chip, would you rather 
have toes like a duck's or a woodpecker's ?" asked 
the brooklet, with a sly twinkle. 

"Like a woodpecker's, of course, with two sharp 
toes in front, and two curved back, so that I could 
cling to the bark of nut-trees." 

" And what kind of bill would you choose, pretty 
chipmonk ?" 

" I should like to have a duck's; for I could 
carry nuts and acorns in it." 

" But how would you crack the nuts ? ' bubbled 
the roguish brook. 

Little Chip was in a trap, but his bead-eyes fairly 
sparkled, as he chirped, " I should not wish to eat 
hard nuts if I were a bird. I should swim in the 
pond, dip my head among the bugs and weeds, and 
strain all the food I needed in my queer bill," and 
he perched his little head on one side, as if to say, 
"Now I am out of your -trap, Master Brooklet." 

"You would not paddle about very fast," laughed 
the silver waves. " Just look at the duck's broad 
webs, and then at the woodpecker's slender toes. 



ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BROOKSIDE. 105 

AYe fear that you would come from the pond quite 
hungry." 

" But I could use my sharp toes to climb on the 
bark of the old apple-tree, where I could dig out 
bugs and worms, as the woodpeckers do," said 
Chip. 

" You would have hard work pecking the bark 
with your blunt duck's bill, my merry friend," re- 
plied the brook. 

"So I should. If I had a woodpecker's bill, I 
ought to have every other part of its body. I 
should need its stiff tail-feathers to brace against 
the trunks ; its sharp, strong bill to peck the bark ; 
its long, barbed tongue to drag the worms from 
their deep hiding-places ; and, above all, its appetite 
for such food. 

" And if I had a duck's bill, I should need its 
short, strong legs, its web-feet, and broad, oily 
body." 

••' That is just what I wished you to know," 

chuckled the little stream. " It would be a strange 

_ht if cats had hoofs, mice carried long horns, 

horses wore sharp beaks, and dogs used wings 

instead of fore-legs. 

•• But every creature is just fitted to its home 
and habits of life. Birds and beasts that feed on 
flesh have sharp, tearing bills, beaks or teeth, and 
their claws are made keen and strong for holding 
their prey. Large animals that graze in pastures or 



106 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

meadows have hoofs that will not easily sink into 
the soft ground or cling to the thick grass-roots ; 
and their teeth are formed to grind the grasses 
which they bite or tear off. 

" There are many queer bills, legs, feet, tongues, 
noses and teeth, and each has special uses. 

" Only look about you as the seasons pass, and 
see the strange creatures in our valley: There 
are humming-birds, with long, slender bills, which 
they thrust deep into sweet blossoms to draw out 
nectar and insects ; mosquitoes, with hollow stings, 
through which they get their food ; ground-moles, 
with long snouts, which they use as spades ; fire- 
flies and worms that flash and glow like sparks 
from the starry workshop of the sky ; blue-herons, 
with long legs for wading, and necks to match ; 
spiders that w r eave winding webs for unwary flies ; 
bright-colored crossbills that peck the seeds from 
the scales of spruce and pine cones. 

" Then there are animals with different kinds of 
covering, — turtles, with strong, arching shells ; 
fish, with thin, horny scales ; birds, with light,, 
warm feathers ; frogs, with smooth, slippery skin ; 
sheep, with thick, curling wool ; and squirrels, 
with soft, sleek furs. 

" How would you like to exchange your fur, 
Dick, for a coat of turtle-shell ? ' queried the 
brooklet. 

"Not I!' cried the squirrel, quickly. "How 



ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BBOOKSIDE. 107 

could I crawl among the stones, and squeeze 
through narrow holes ? And how should I keep 
warm in winter ? ' 

" Perhaps you would like to be covered with 
scales, pretty Redbreast, like our brook-trout," 
added the brooklet. 

" 0. no ! for then I could not flv. If there 
were no feathers on my wings. I should fall to 
earth. Besides, I should freeze when the cold 
winds blow, and I could not keep my eggs warm 
at night. I fear that the hard scales would crush 
the pretty blue shells. 0, no! I will keep my 
soft feathers.'' 

••That is a wise choice. Redbreast; for no other 
covering in the wide world is so well suited to 
your cheerful life of flight/' rippled the brook, 
softly. 

" But why are some birds given such bright- 
colored plumage, when others wear only dingy 
colors?' asked Chip. "I have always felt very 
sorry for the wrens and sparrows who wear dusty 
brown and gray coats, while the humming-birds 
look like pretty winged flowers." 

" All around us," began the brooklet. " there is 
a never-ending struggle for food — for life itself. 
The pathway of every creature is beset with ene- 
mies ready to pounce upon and devour it. The 
timid earthworm crawls from its lonely cave only 
to make a dainty meal for some sharp-eyed robin. 



108 BROOKS AND BBOOK BASINS. 

" Scarcely has the little bundle of sunshine burst 
from its cocoon into a fluttering butterfly ere a 
hungry bird swoops down and puts out its faint 
light, 

"A long time ago, so the story runs, a lamb 
came to drink at the brookside. So soft and 
white its coat, it looked as if it had just dropped 
from the fleecy clouds. 

"A hungry wolf had hidden behind a rock a 
little higher up the stream. Just as the lamb's 
pretty pink lips touched the water, the old gray 
wolf called out : 

" ' How dare you muddle the brook where I am 
drinking ! ' 

" ' I only touched the tips of my lips/ said the 
lamb, meekly ; c and how can I muddle the water 
where you are ? You are higher up the stream 
than I.' 

"'But you called my father names last year/ 
snarled the wolf. 

" * That cannot be, for I am not a year old/ 
replied the lamb. 

" ' You need not make excuses,' growled the 
wolf ; ' I shall make a meal of you all the same.' 

" So saying, he sprang upon the helpless lamb, 
and killed it." 

" How cruel ! " cried Dick. 

"Was it cruel?" asked the brooklet. "The 
wolf was hungry, and killed the lamb for food. 



ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BROOKSIDE. 109 

just as men do. But once some boys came here to 
stone my little singing frogs for fun. They broke 
their legs and left them to suffer for days and days 
before they died. Yes, and they shot at my pretty 
squirrels, and called it ' sport.' 

" Which is more cruel, a wolf that kills a lamb 
for food, or a boy who shoots a little squirrel for 
fun ? 

" But I must go back to my story. 

"The large and strong: battle with the small 
and weak. The hawk is ever turning its sharp 
eyes downward to spy a meal among the feebler 
birds or fishes. The stealthy cat crouches behind 
the tuft of coarse grass, watching for a field-mouse, 
or even a bright songster, to come within reach of 
its sharp claws. 

" But every creature has some means of defence 
or escape. The fly with its many eyes and its 
wings often saves itself by rapid flight ; the turtle 
draws itself within its hard shell ; the bee thrusts 
out its poison sting ; the squirrel darts through 
the wall or among the branches ; the horse kicks ; 
the cow tosses ; the dog bites ; and the mouse runs 
into its slender hole. 

" But in order that their enemies may not find 
them, and doubtless for many other reasons also, 
some animals seem to take on the coloring of the 
places where they live. Thus the wee humming- 
bird seems to borrow its colors from the flowers 



110 BBOOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

where it sips, and its enemies often pass it by 
unseen. The sparrows, but for their motion, 
would look like a part of the ground and bushes 
on which they live. The brown-and-gray wrens 
can easily hide in the thickets of the same dusty 
shade. 

" Color, then, like horns, hoofs, shells, claws 
and eyes, is a means by which animals often avoid 
being seen by their enemies. 

" Nature has given to every creature just the 
structure and covering that will best enable it to 
live in its native haunts. Its whole body is formed 
to take and devour its proper food. Its covering 
prepares it to bear heat or cold, drought or rain, 
sunshine or darkness, and to live in or on the land, 
in the air, in the water, or in both air and water. 

" In its home it is able to defend itself against 
some enemies, although it may fall a prey to 
others. 

" Animals, like plants, are ever seeking new 
homes, new places to supply them with food. But 
as thev roam about, thev find lines in nature 
which thev cannot cross and live. 

" How interesting to watch the many ways in 
which the various creatures move from place to 
place. Now a bird passes far overhead, its sails 
gently swaying in the air. Yonder is a butterfly, 
feebly fluttering from flower to flower, or wafted 
away at the will of the gentlest breeze. 



ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BBOOKSIBE. Ill 

"Across the meadow, the pretty leopard-frogs 
make long leaps, then seem to push their way to 
the bottom of the pond. Shining fish steady 
themselves with their tiny paddles, and then dart 
through the water with lightning speed. The 
happy squirrels race and chase like dry leaves in 
an October wind. 

•• Yet swift and strong, as many of these crea- 
tures are. they cannot live beyond the places that 
produce their food. The wild-horse must stop at 
the border of the grass-land. The strong-winded 
bird must return to the places that feed it. The 
bee cannot long: remain away from flowers and 
fruits, unless it has a store of honey. 

" Animals whose food is in the sea cannot 
wander far from its shores. If the forest fruits 
alone nourish them, they cannot cross wide grass- 
lands. Grazing animals will follow the meadows 
or higher grassy plains, but cannot cross broad, 
rocky heights or sandy tracts, or pass through 
vast forests. 

" Thus we find that animals, like plants, choose 
different parts of our valley for their homes. 
Squirrels live near the nut-trees and grain-fields : 

►bits burrow not far from the clover-patches and 
u dens : caterpillars swarm on the branches whose 
they like to gnaw ; water-scorpions abound 
in the pond where they can catch mosquito-wrig- 
glers and tadpoles ; while near them the larva of 



112 BBOOKS AND BBOOK BASINS. 

the dragon-fly feeds ; in short, both plants and 
animals live only where they can find food. 

" You will see them in the meadows, brooks, 
trees, on the hilltops, in the ground, and wherever 
their food grows. Thus it is all over our beautiful 
earth. 

"Now I see by the shadows that I have only 
time to tell you about a queer animal that lives 
in the desert by the river Nile, and then you must 
scamper to your nesting-places. 

" I shall tell you this story of the camel to show 
you how an animal may be fitted even for a home 
in a desert place. 

" This wonderful creature is larger than the horse 
in our pasture. Its neck and legs are long, and its 
head quite small. 

" There are pads of hair on its knees and feet, 
and over its eyes hangs a thick hair veil. On its 
back there is a large hump, and it has a great 
pouch in which it can carry water. 

" For clavs and davs, it can travel without bein°; 
fed or led to drink. The fine sand that blows 
about would blind Dick or Bunny, but the camel 
does not fear it. 

" Chip' s little feet would blister and burn on the 
hot sand, but* this wonderful beast travels during 
the hottest clays, and even kneels on the burning 
desert to allow its master to get on and off its 
back. 



ANIMALS THAT LIVE BY THE BROOKSIDE. 113 

" Shall I tell you how it lives in this drear 
waste ? 

" Its great rounded back is made of fatty flesh, 
and when it has not been fed for a long time, this 
homely hump supplies the body with food. When 
the noble creature is thirsty, its pouch supplies the 
body with water. 

" The long lashes protect its eyes from the hot 
sands that blow about ; and the thick pads pre- 
vent the parched ground from burning its knees 
and feet. 

"Here again, we see how Nature cares for her 
children, and fits them to their homes. 

" For miles and miles, the desert stretches away 
like an ocean ; and as the camel bears heavy car- 
goes of oil, gums and salt across this sea of sand, 
it is called the ' Ship of the Desert.' Do you not 
think that it is an apt name ? 

" Now, my little friends, hie away to your nests 
to rest for another day." 



114 BROOKS AND BROOK BASIXS. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE RAINDROPS GO HOME TO OLD OCEAN. 

" To-day we must tell you the last story. 
When the evening shadows creep into our A^alley, 
other raindrops will fill the brook-bed, but we shall 
be home in the sea. 

" • The sea ! the sea ! the open sea ! 
The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! 
Without a mark, without a bound, 
It runneth the earth's wide regions round ; 
It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies, 
Or like a cradled creature lies.' 

— Barry Cornwall. 

" But watch for us ! We may come again — 

" * While the loom of winter weaves 
The shroud of flowers and fountains.' 

" We may sift down like apple-blossoms on the 
hillside, and spread our warm snow-blanket over 
Bunny's home. 

"You may see us, Dick, hanging from the 
boughs of your old oak. 

" We may fly away on our light vapor-wings to 
the sunny south, where Robin will sing his sweet 
songs all winter. 



RAINDROPS GO HOME TO OLD OCEAN. 115 

" Look for us in the early showers, next April. 
You may find us bubbling from the hillside, — 

" ' When spring comes round again, 
By greening slope and singing flood/ 

-When the pretty pink earthworms come crawl- 
ing; from their dark holes, ask them if thev have 
met the raindrops at work in the cold earth. 

"Speak kindly to each little rill, and cheer it on 
its way. 

" When the new buds begin to unfold.- and the 
tender grass-blades shoot from the dark soil, you 
will know that we are busy, and will soon be with 
you again. 

"Away in the ocean our tiny brothers mav be 
waiting for us. We shall have a merry time, and 
see wonderful sights. Xext vear. if vou are here, 
we will tell you another story of our travels." 

"Little brook." whispered the wild-flower- 
" won't you please tell us a story about your home 
in the sea ? I shall think of you often when you 
are gone, and shall be so happy when I see your 
pretty dimpled waves go dancing by again. 0. I 
hope I may grow in this same spot next summer ! * 

•* So do I. little wild-flower." replied the brook. 
••You are always so cheerful that you make every- 
one near you happy. Yes, I will tell you a true 
story about a storm at sea. and then I must bid 
you a long, long farewell." 



116 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

THE STORM AT SEA. 

"It is evening on the ocean. The weary sun 
has just hidden its face behind a cold gray misty 

veil. 

" ' The twilight is sad and cloudy, 
The wind blows wild and free, 
And like the wings of sea-birds 
Mash the white-caps of the sea.' 

— Longfellow, 

"Now heavy clouds roll up in the east, and 
spread out over the whole sky. The trembling 
stars put out their lights and hide behind the dark 
curtain. 

" The night wind sighs and moans as if in answer 
to the lonely call of the stray sea-bird, seeking a 
pathway shoreward through the darkness. 

"Now comes a sound of rushing water. The 
surface is churned into foam. Great waves spring 
from the angry sea, and lash themselves in foam- 
ing fury. 

" Suddenly a tongue of flames flashes through 
the clouds, and shoots across the sky. The air 
seems filled with barking, howling monsters, whose 
voices shake the very depths of old ocean. 

"Rain pours down in torrents. The grand 
storm at sea has begun ! 

"Flash after flash lights every corner of the 
heavens. The clouds are torn into shreds. Peal 
upon peal of jarring thunder rolls out over the 
water. Then the sky becomes dark again, and the 
wind settles down with a dreary moan. 



BAISDBOPS GO HOME TO OLD OCEAS. 117 

" All ! but you should see old ocean now ! 

" Far as the eye can reach, the phosphorescent 
sea is filled with pale flame, as if swarms of fire- 
flies were flashing their tiny lanterns in every 
wave ! 

•• Flying spray looks like shooting-stars. Shoals 
of fish dart about like flights of flaming arrows. 
The breaking waves are fringed with brightest 
silver on every crest. 

"Now the sky becomes a vast fireplace. Dark 
clouds hang overhead like thick smoke. Plunging 
whales are burning logs. Leaping fish are sparks 
thrown up only to fall back again into the fiery 
sea. 

" Again and again the lightning flashes through 
the clouds. Heavy thunder crashes and groans. 
Rivers of water seem to pour from the broken 
clouds. Now above, now below. Nature shows her 
grandest fireworks. 

" At length the storm goes by. The dark clouds 
are drawn aside, and beautiful stars look down 
once more. 

" But for a long time the water rises and falls 
as if panting from its long struggle with the fierce 
gale. 

*• Then the weary raindrops lie down in the 
cradle of the sea. and the great waves rock us to 
sleep." 



118 BROOKS AND BROOK BASINS. 

As the brooklet ended its story, its pretty ripples 
broke for the last time over the rounded pebbles, 
with a low sad murmur, as if to bid farewell to its 
little friends. 

They followed along the banks, and saw it glide 
into the waiting ocean. They watched its silver 
ripples join the dark-blue of the sea. The rain- 
drops were home at last. 

Sadly and silently the little band moved along 
the lonely valley where other raindrops filled the 
brook-bed. 

They greeted the gentle wild-flower, but lo ! its 
petals had fallen, and its weary head had drooped 
for the long winter sleep. 

Then the robin turned to its pretty friends, and 
softly chirped, " I, too, must leave our lovely 
valley where we have spent so many happy days 
together. To-morrow's sun will light me many 
miles on my journey towards the bright and sunny 
south-land. 

" Think not that I shall forget you, or the pleas- 
ant times we have had together. 0, how closely 
will I watch the changing seasons. 

" The April clouds shall not fly faster than I to 
meet you here when spring returns, but, till then, 
a long farewell." 

No word was spoken as Bunny, Dick and Chip 
turned with moist eyes to watch their parting 
friend fade away in the gathering shadows. 



RAINDROPS GO HOME TO OLD OCEAN. 119 

But listen ! what word of cheer is this ? 
A happy voice comes floating in on the evening 
breeze — 

" The brooklet came from the mountain, 
As sang the bard of old, 
Running with feet of silver, 
Over the sands of gold. 

" Far away in the briny ocean, 

There*rolled a turbulent wave, 
Now singing along the sea-beach, 
Xow howling along the cave. 

" And the brooklet has found the billow, 

Though they flowed so far apart, 

And has filled with its freshness and sweetness, 

That turbulent, bitter heart." 

— Longfellow. 



A BOOK FOR PROGRESSIVE TEACHERS. 

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A System and Method of Teaching Geography- 
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